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University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

Gift  of 
ROBERT  B.  HONE YM AN,  JR. 


THE    HERITAGE    OF   DEDLOW 
MARSH   AND   OTHER  TALES 


BY 

BRET   HARTE 


BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND  COMPANY 


1890 


Copyright,  1889, 
BY  BRET  HARTE. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A.  : 
Etectrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH         .  .      5 

A  KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS     .  91 

A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH   HILL  .        .        .  .138 

CAPTAIN  JIM'S   FRIEND 209 


THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW 
MARSH. 


THE  sun  was  going  down  on  the  Dedlow 
Marshes.  The  tide  was  following  it  fast  as 
if  to  meet  the  reddening  lines  of  sky  and 
water  in  the  west,  leaving  the  foreground  to 
grow  blacker  and  blacker  every  moment,  and 
to  bring  out  in  startling  contrast  the  few 
half-filled  and  half-lit  pools  left  behind  and 
forgotten.  The  strong  breath  of  the  Pacific 
fanning  their  surfaces  at  times  kindled  them 
into  a  dull  glow  like  dying  embers.  A 
cloud  of  sand-pipers  rose  white  from  one  of 
the  nearer  lagoons,  swept  in  a  long  eddying 
ring  against  the  sunset,  and  became  a  black 
and  dropping  rain  to  seaward.  The  long 
sinuous  line  of  channel,  fading  with  the  light 
and  ebbing  with  the  tide,  began  to  give  off 
here  and  there  light  puffs  of  gray-winged 
birds  like  sudden  exhalations.  High  in  the 
darkening  sky  the  long  arrow-headed  lines 


6          THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

of  geese  and  '  brant '  pointed  towards  the  up 
land.  As  the  light  grew  more  uncertain  the 
air  at  times  was  filled  with  the  rush  of  view 
less  and  melancholy  wings,  or  became  plain 
tive  with  far-off  cries  and  lamentations.  As 
the  Marshes  grew  blacker  the  far-scattered 
tussocks  and  accretions  on  its  level  surface 
began  to  loom  in  exaggerated  outline,  and 
two  human  figures,  suddenly  emerging  erect 
on  the  bank  of  the  hidden  channel,  assumed 
the  proportion  of  giants. 

When  they  had  moored  their  unseen  boat, 
they  still  appeared  for  some  moments  to  be 
moving  vaguely  and  aimlessly  round  the 
spot  where  they  had  disembarked.  But  as 
the  eye  became  familiar  with  the  darkness  it 
was  seen  that  they  were  really  advancing  in 
land,  yet  with  a  slowness  of  progression  and 
deviousness  of  course  that  appeared  inexpli 
cable  to  the  distant  spectator.  Presently  it 
was  evident  that  this  seemingly  even,  vast, 
black  expanse  was  traversed  and  intersected 
by  inky  creeks  and  small  channels,  which 
made  human  progression  difficult  and  dan 
gerous.  As  they  appeared  nearer  and  their 
figures  took  more  natural  proportions,  it 
could  be  seen  that  each  carried  a  gun ;  that 
one  was  a  young  girl,  although  dressed  so 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.          7 

like  her  companion  in  shaggy  pea-jacket  and 
sou'wester  as  to  be  scarcely  distinguished 
from  him  above  the  short  skirt  that  came 
halfway  down  her  high  india-rubber  fishing- 
boots.  By  the  time  they  had  reached  firmer 
ground,  and  turned  to  look  back  at  the  sun 
set,  it  could  be  also  seen  that  the  likeness 
between  their  faces  was  remarkable.  Both, 
had  crisp,  black,  tightly  curling  hair ;  both 
had  dark  eyes  and  heavy  eyebrows ;  both 
had  quick  vivid  complexions,  slightly  height 
ened  by  the  sea  and  wind.  But  more  strik 
ing  than  their  similarity  of  coloring  was  the 
likeness  of  expression  and  bearing.  Both 
wore  the  same  air  of  picturesque  energy ; 
both  bore  themselves  with  a  like  graceful 
effrontery  and  self-possession. 

The  young  man  continued  his  way.  The 
young  girl  lingered  for  a  moment  looking 
seaward,  with  her  small  brown  hand  lifted 
to  shade  her  eyes,  —  a  precaution  which  her 
heavy  eyebrows  and  long  lashes  seemed  to 
render  utterly  gratuitous. 

"  Come  along,  Mag.  What  are  ye  waitin' 
for  ?  "  said  the  young  man  impatiently. 

"Nothin'.  Lookin'  at  that  boat  from  the 
Fort."  Her  clear  eyes  were  watching  a  small 
skiff,  invisible  to  less  keen-sighted  observers, 


8          THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

aground  upon  a  flat  near  the  mouth  of  the 
channel.  "  Them  chaps  will  have  a  high  ole 
time  gunnin'  thar,  stuck  in  the  mud,  and  the 
tide  goin'  out  like  sixty  !  " 

"  Never  you  mind  the  sodgers,"  returned 
her  companion,  aggressively,  "  they  kin  take 
care  o'  their  own  precious  skins,  or  Uncle 
Sam  will  do  it  for  'em,  I  reckon.  Anyhow 
the  people  —  that 's  you  and  me,  Mag  —  is 
expected  to  pay  for  their  foolishness.  That 's 
what  they  're  sent  yer  for.  Ye  oughter  to  be 
satisfied  with  that,"  he  added  with  deep  sar 
casm. 

"  I  reckon  they  ain't  expected  to  do  much 
off  o1  dry  land,  and  they  can't  help  bein' 
queer  on  the  water,"  returned  the  young  girl 
with  a  reflecting  sense  of  justice. 

"  Then  they  ain't  no  call  to  go  gunnin', 
and  wastin'  Guv'nment  powder  011  ducks 
instead  o'  Injins." 

"  Thet's  so,"  said  the  girl  thoughtfully. 
"  Wonder  ef  Guv'nment  pays  for  them  frocks 
the  Kernel's  girls  went  cavortin'  round  Log- 
port  in  last  Sunday  —  they  looked  like  a 
cirkis." 

"  Like  ez  not  the  old  Kernel  gets  it  outer 
contracts  —  one  way  or  another.  We  pay 
for  it  all  the  same,"  he  added  gloomily. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.         9 

"  Jest  the  same  ez  if  they  were  my  clothes," 
said  the  girl,  with  a  quick,  fiery,  little  laugh, 
"  ain't  it  ?  Wonder  how  they  'd  like  my 
sayin'  that  to  'em  when  they  was  prancin' 
round,  eh,  Jim  ?  " 

But  her  companion  was  evidently  unpre 
pared  for  this  sweeping  feminine  deduction, 
and  stopped  it  with  masculine  promptitude. 

"  Look  yer  —  instead  o'  botherin'  your 
head  about  what  the  Fort  girls  wear,  you  'd 
better  trot  along  a  little  more  lively.  It 's 
late  enough  now." 

"  But  these  darned  boots  hurt  like  pizen," 
said  the  girl,  limping.  "  They  swallowed  a 
lot  o'  water  over  the  tops  while  I  was  wadin' 
down  there,  and  my  feet  go  swashin'  around 
like  in  a  churn  every  step." 

"  Lean  on  me,  baby,"  he  returned,  passing 
his  arm  around  her  waist,  and  dropping  her 
head  smartly  on  his  shoulder.  "Thar!"  The 
act  was  brotherly  and  slightly  contemptuous, 
but  it  was  sufficient  to  at  once  establish  their 
kinship. 

They  continued  on  thus  for  some  moments 
in  silence,  the  girl,  I  fear,  after  the  fashion 
of  her  sex,  taking  the  fullest  advantage  of 
this  slightly  sentimental  and  caressing  atti 
tude.  They  were  moving  now  along  the 


10        THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

edge  of  the  Marsh,  parallel  with  the  line  of 
rapidly  fading  horizon,  following  some  trail 
only  known  to  their  keen  youthful  eyes.  It 
was  growing  darker  and  darker.  The  cries 
of  the  sea-birds  had  ceased ;  even  the  call  of 
a  belated  plover  had  died  away  inland  ;  the 
hush  of  death  lay  over  the  black  funereal  pall 
of  marsh  at  their  side.  The  tide  had  run 
out  with  the  day.  Even  the  sea-breeze  had 
lulled  in  this  dead  slack-water  of  all  nature, 
as  if  waiting  outside  the  bar  with  the  ocean, 
the  stars,  and  the  night. 

Suddenly  the  girl  stopped  and  halted  her 
companion.  The  faint  far  sound  of  a  bugle 
broke  the  silence,  if  the  idea  of  interruption 
could  have  been  conveyed  by  the  two  or 
three  exquisite  vibrations  that  seemed  born 
of  that  silence  itself,  and  to  fade  and  die  in 
it  without  break  or  discord.  Yet  it  was  only 
the  4  retreat '  call  from  the  Fort  two  miles 
distant  and  invisible. 

The  young  girl's  face  had  become  irra 
diated,  and  her  small  mouth  half  opened  as 
she  listened.  "  Do  you  know,  Jim,"  she  said 
with  a  confidential  sigh,  "  I  allus  put  words 
to  that  when  I  hear  it  —  it 's  so  pow'ful 
pretty.  It  allus  goes  to  me  like  this  :  '  Goes 
the  day,  Far  away,  With  the  light,  And  the 


THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       11 

night  Comes  along  —  Comes  along  —  Comes 
along  —  Like  a-a  so-o-ong.'  "  She  here  lifted 
her  voice,  a  sweet,  fresh,  boyish  contralto, 
in  such  an  admirable  imitation  of  the  bugle 
that  her  brother,  after  the  fashion  of  more 
select  auditors,  was  for  a  moment  quite  con 
vinced  that  the  words  meant  something. 
Nevertheless,  as  a  brother,  it  was  his  duty  to 
crush  this  weakness.  "Yes;  and  it  says: 
4  Shut  your  head,  Go  to  bed,'  "  he  returned 
irascibly ;  "and  you  'd  better  come  along,  if 
we  're  goin'  to  hev  any  supper.  There 's 
Teller  Bob  hez  got  ahead  of  us  over  there 
with  the  game  already." 

The  girl  glanced  towards  a  slouching  bur 
dened  figure  that  now  appeared  to  be  pre 
ceding  them,  straightened  herself  suddenly, 
and  then  looked  attentively  towards  the 
Marsh. 

"  Not  the  sodgers  again  ?  "  said  her  brother 
impatiently. 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly;  "  but  if  that  don't 
beat  anythin'  !  I  'd  hev  sworn,  Jim,  that 
Yeller  Bob  was  somewhere  behind  us.  I  saw 
him  only  jest  now  when  4  Taps '  sounded, 
somewhere  over  thar."  She  pointed  with  a 
half-uneasy  expression  in  quite  another  di 
rection  from  that  in  which  the  slouching  Yel 
low  Bob  had  just  loomed. 


12       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  Tell  ye  what,  Mag,  makin'  poetry  outer 
bugle  calls  hez  kinder  muddled  ye.  That 's 
Yeller  Bob  ahead,  and  ye  orter  know  Injins 
well  enuff  by  this  time  to  remember  that 
they  allus  crop  up  jest  when  ye  don't  expect 
them.  And  there  's  the  bresh  jest  afore  us. 
Come !  " 

The  '  bresh,'  or  low  bushes,  was  really  a 
line  of  stunted  willows  and  alders  that 
seemed  to  have  gradually  sunk  into  the 
level  of  the  plain,  but  increased  in  size  far 
ther  inland,  until  they  grew  to  the  height 
and  density  of  a  wood.  Seen  from  the  chan 
nel  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  green  cape  or 
promontory  thrust  upon  the  Marsh,  Passing 
through  its  tangled  recesses,  with  the  aid  of 
some  unerring  instinct,  the  two  companions 
emerged  upon  another  and  much  larger  level 
that  seemed  as  illimitable  as  the  bay.  The 
strong  breath  of  the  ocean  lying  just  beyond 
the  bar  and  estuary  they  were  now  facing 
came  to  them  salt  and  humid  as  another 
tide.  The  nearer  expanse  of  open  water  re 
flected  the  after-glow,  and  lightened  the  land 
scape.  And  between  the  two  wayfarers  and 
the  horizon  rose,  bleak  and  startling,  the 
strange  outlines  of  their  home. 

At  first  it  seemed  a  ruined  colonnade  of 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       13 

many  pillars,  whose  base  and  pediment  were 
buried  in  the  earth,  supporting  a  long  paral 
lelogram  of  entablature  and  cornices.  But  a 
second  glance  showed  it  to  be  a  one-storied 
building,  upheld  above  the  Marsh  by  num 
berless  piles  placed  at  regular  distances ; 
some  of  them  sunken  or  inclined  from  the 
perpendicular,  increasing  the  first  illusion. 
Between  these  pillars,  which  permitted  a  free 
circulation  of  air,  and,  at  extraordinary  tides, 
even  the  waters  of  the  bay  itself,  the  level 
waste  of  marsh,  the  bay,  the  surges  of  the 
bar,  and  finally  the  red  horizon  line,  were 
distinctly  visible.  A  railed  gallery  or  plat 
form,  supported  also  on  piles,  and  reached 
by  steps  from  the  Marsh,  ran  around  the 
building,  and  gave  access  to  the  several  rooms 
and  offices. 

But  if  the  appearance  of  this  lacustrine 
and  amphibious  dwelling  was  striking,  and 
not  without  a  certain  rude  and  massive 
grandeur,  its  grounds  and  possessions, 
through  which  the  brother  and  sister  were 
still  picking  their  way,  were  even  more  gro 
tesque  and  remarkable.  Over  a  space  of 
half  a  dozen  acres  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of 
years  of  tidal  offerings  were  collected,  and 
even  guarded  with  a  certain  care.  The 


14   THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

blackened  hulks  of  huge  uprooted  trees, 
scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  fragments 
of  genuine  wrecks  beside  them,  were  securely 
fastened  by  chains  to  stakes  and  piles  driven 
in  the  marsh,  while  heaps  of  broken  and  dis 
jointed  bamboo  orange  crates,  held  together 
by  ropes  of  fibre,  glistened  like  ligamented 
bones  heaped  in  the  dead  valley.  Masts, 
spars,  fragments  of  shell-encrusted  boats, 
binnacles,  round-houses  and  galleys,  and  part 
of  the  after-deck  of  a  coasting  schooner,  had 
ceased  their  wanderings  and  found  rest  in 
this  vast  cemetery  of  the  sea.  The  legend  on 
a  wheel-house,  the  lettering  on  a  stern  or  bow, 
served  for  mortuary  inscription.  Wailed 
over  by  the  trade  winds,  mourned  by  lament 
ing  sea-birds,  once  every  year  the  tide  visited 
its  lost  dead  and  left  them  wet  with  its  tears. 
To  such  a  spot  and  its  surroundings  the 
atmosphere  of  tradition  and  mystery  was  not 
wanting.  Six  years  ago  Boone  Culpepper 
had  built  the  house,  and  brought  to  it  his 
wife  —  variously  believed  to  be  a  gypsy,  a 
Mexican,  a  bright  mulatto,  a  Digger  Indian, 
a  South  Sea  princess  from  Tahiti,  some 
body  else's  wife — but  in  reality  a  little 
Creole  woman  from  New  Orleans,  with  whom 
he  had  contracted  a  marriage,  with  other 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.   15 

gambling  debts,  during  a  winter's  vacation 
from  his  home  in  Virginia.  At  the  end  of 
two  years  she  had  died,  succumbing,  as  dif 
ferently  stated,  from  perpetual  wet  feet,  or 
the  misanthropic  idiosyncrasies  of  her  hus 
band,  and  leaving  behind  her  a  girl  of 
twelve  and  a  boy  of  sixteen  to  console  him. 
How  futile  was  this  bequest  may  be  guessed 
from  a  brief  summary  of  Mr.  Culpepper's 
peculiarities.  They  were  the  development 
of  a  singular  form  of  aggrandizement  and 
misanthropy.  On  his  arrival  at  Logport  he 
had  bought  a  part  of  the  apparently  value 
less  Dedlow  Marsh  from  the  Government  at 
less  than  a  dollar  an  acre,  continuing  his 
singular  investment  year  by  year  until  he 
was  the  owner  of  three  leagues  of  amphibi 
ous  domain.  It  was  then  discovered  that 
this  property  carried  with  it  the  waterfront 
of  divers  valuable  and  convenient  sites  for 
manufactures  and  the  commercial  ports  of  a 
noble  bay,  as  well  as  the  natural  embarcade- 
ros  of  some  ;  lumbering '  inland  settlements. 
Boone  Culpepper  would  not  sell.  Boone 
Culpepper  would  not  rent  or  lease.  Boone 
Culpepper  held  an  invincible  blockade  of  his 
neighbors,  and  the  progress  and  improve 
ment  he  despised  —  granting  only,  after  a 


16       THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

royal  fashion,  occasional  license,  revocable 
at  pleasure,  in  the  shape  of  tolls,  which 
amply  supported  him,  with  the  game  he 
shot  in  his  kingfisher's  eyrie  on  the  Marsh. 
Even  the  Government  that  had  made  him 
powerful  was  obliged  to  '  condemn '  a  part 
of  his  property  at  an  equitable  price  for  the 
purposes  of  Fort  Redwood,  in  which  the 
adjacent  town  of  Logport  shared.  And 
Boone  Culpepper,  unable  to  resist  the  act, 
refused  to  receive  the  compensation  or  quit 
claim  the  town.  In  his  scant  intercourse 
with  his  neighbors  he  always  alluded  to  it 
as  his  own,  showed  it  to  his  children  as  part 
of  their  strange  inheritance,  and  exhibited 
the  starry  flag  that  floated  from  the  Fort  as 
a  flaunting  insult  to  their  youthful  eyes. 
Hated,  feared,  and  superstitiously  shunned 
by  some,  regarded  as  a  madman  by  others, 
familiarly  known  as  '  The  Kingfisher  of  Ded- 
low,'  Boone  Culpepper  was  one  day  found 
floating  dead  in  his  skiff,  with  a  charge  of 
shot  through  his  head  and  shoulders.  The 
shot-gun  lying  at  his  feet  at  the  bottom  of 
the  boat  indicated  the  4  accident '  as  recorded 
in  the  verdict  of  the  coroner's  jury  —  but 
not  by  the  people.  A  thousand  rumors  of 
murder  or  suicide  prevailed,  but  always  with 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       17 

the  universal  rider, '  Served  him  right.'  So 
invincible  was  this  feeling  that  but  few 
attended  his  last  rites,  which  took  place  at 
high  water.  The  delay  of  the  officiating 
clergyman  lost  the  tide ;  the  homely  cata 
falque —  his  own  boat  —  was  left  aground 
on  the  Marsh,  and  deserted  by  all  mourners 
except  the  two  children.  Whatever  he  had 
instilled  into  them  by  precept  and  example, 
whatever  took  place  that  night  in  their 
lonely  watch  by  his  bier  on  the  black  marshes, 
it  was  certain  that  those  who  confidently 
looked  for  any  change  in  the  administration 
of  the  Dedlow  Marsh  were  cruelly  mistaken. 
The  old  Kingfisher  was  dead,  but  he  had 
left  in  the  nest  two  young  birds,  more  beau 
tiful  and  graceful,  it  was  true,  yet  as  fierce 
and  tenacious  of  beak  and  talon. 


II. 

ARRIVING  at  the  house,  the  young  people 
ascended  the  outer  flight  of  wooden  steps, 
which  bore  an  odd  likeness  to  the  compan 
ion-way  of  a  vessel,  and  the  gallery,  or 
4  deck,'  as  it  was  called  —  where  a  number 
of  nets,  floats,  and  buoys  thrown  over  the 
railing  completed  the  nautical  resemblance. 


18       THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

This  part  of  the  building  was  evidently  de 
voted  to  kitchen,  dining-room,  and  domestic 
offices ;  the  principal  room  in  the  centre 
serving  as  hall  or  living-room,  and  commu 
nicating  on  the  other  side  with  two  sleeping 
apartments.  It  was  of  considerable  size, 
with  heavy  lateral  beams  across  the  ceiling 
—  built,  like  the  rest  of  the  house,  with  a 
certain  maritime  strength  —  and  looked  not 
unlike  a  saloon  cabin.  An  enormous  open 
Franklin  stove  between  the  windows,  as 
large  as  a  chimney,  blazing  with  drift-wood, 
gave  light  and  heat  to  the  apartment,  and 
brought  into  flickering  relief  the  boarded 
walls  hung  with  the  spoils  of  sea  and  shore, 
and  glittering  with  gun-barrels.  Fowling- 
pieces  of  all  sizes,  from  the  long  ducking- 
gun  mounted  on  a  swivel  for  boat  use  to  the 
light  single-barrel  or  carbine,  stood  in  racks 
against  the  walls ;  game-bags,  revolvers  in 
their  holsters,  hunting  and  fishing  knives  in 
their  sheaths,  depended  from  hooks  above 
them.  In  one  corner  stood  a  harpoon ;  in 
another,  two  or  three  Indian  spears  for 
salmon.  The  carpetless  floor  and  rude  chairs 
and  settles  were  covered  with  otter,  mink, 
beaver,  and  a  quantity  of  valuable  seal-skins, 
with  a  few  larger  pelts  of  the  bear  and  elk. 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       19 

The  only  attempt  at  decoration  was  the  dis 
played  wings  and  breasts  of  the  wood  and 
harlequin  duck,  the  muir,  the  cormorant,  the 
gull,  the  gannet,  and  the  femininely  delicate 
half-mourning  of  petrel  and  plover,  nailed 
against  the  wall.  The  influence  of  the  sea 
was  dominant  above  all,  and  asserted  its 
saline  odors  even  through  the  spice  of  the 
curling  drift-wood  smoke  that  half  veiled  the 
ceiling. 

A  berry-eyed  old  Indian  woman  with  the 
complexion  of  dried  salmon  ;  her  daughter, 
also  with  berry  eyes,  and  with  a  face  that 
seemed  wholly  made  of  a  moist  laugh ; 
'Yellow  Bob,'  a  Digger  'buck,'  so  called 
from  the  prevailing  ochre  markings  of  his 
cheek,  and  '  Washooh,'  an  ex-chief ;  a  nonde 
script  in  a  blanket,  looking  like  a  cheap  and 
dirty  doll  whose  fibrous  hair  was  badly  nailed 
on  his  carved  wooden  head,  composed  the 
Culpepper  household.  While  the  two  former 
were  preparing  supper  in  the  adjacent  din 
ing-room,  Yellow  Bob,  relieved  of  his  burden 
of  game,  appeared  on  the  gallery  and  beck 
oned  mysteriously  to  his  master  through  the 
window.  James  Culpepper  went  out,  re 
turned  quickly,  and  after  a  minute's  hesita 
tion  and  an  uneasy  glance  towards  his  sister, 


20       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

who  had  meantime  pushed  back  her  sou' 
wester  from  her  forehead,  and  without  taking 
off  her  jacket  had  dropped  into  a  chair  be 
fore  the  fire  with  her  back  towards  him,  took 
his  gun  noiselessly  from  the  rack,  and  saying 
carelessly  that  he  would  be  back  in  a  mo 
ment,  disappeared. 

Left  to  herself,  Maggie  coolly  pulled  off 
her  long  boots  and  stockings,  and  comfort 
ably  opposed  to  the  fire  two  very  pretty 
feet  and  ankles,  whose  delicate  purity  was 
slightly  blue-bleached  by  confinement  in  the 
tepid  sea -water.  The  contrast  of  their 
waxen  whiteness  with  her  blue  woolen  skirt, 
and  with  even  the  skin  of  her  sunburnt 
hands  and  wrists,  apparently  amused  her, 
and  she  sat  for  some  moments  with  her 
elbows  on  her  knees,  her  skirts  slightly 
raised,  contemplating  them,  and  curling  her 
toes  with  evident  satisfaction.  The  firelight 
playing  upon  the  rich  coloring  of  her  face, 
the  fringe  of  jet-black  curls  that  almost  met 
the  thick  sweep  of  eyebrows,  and  left  her 
only  a  white  strip  of  forehead,  her  short 
upper  lip  and  small  chin,  rounded  but  reso 
lute,  completed  a  piquant  and  striking  figure. 
The  rich  brown  shadows  on  the  smoke-stained 
walls  and  ceiling,  the  occasional  starting  into 


THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       21 

relief  of  the  scutcheons  of  brilliant  plumage, 
and  the  momentary  glitter  of  the  steel  bar 
rels,  made  a  quaint  background  to  this 
charming  picture.  Sitting  there,  and  follow 
ing  some  lingering  memory  of  her  tramp  on 
the  Marsh,  she  hummed  to  herself  a  few 
notes  of  the  bugle  call  that  had  impressed 
her  —  at  first  softly,  and  finally  with  the  full 
pitch  of  her  voice. 

Suddenly  she  stopped. 

There  was  a  faint  and  unmistakable  rap 
ping  on  the  floor  beneath  her.  It  was  dis 
tinct,  but  cautiously  given,  as  if  intended  to 
be  audible  to  her  alone.  For  a  moment  she 
stood  upright,  her  feet  still  bare  and  glisten 
ing,  on  the  otter  skin  that  served  as  a  rug. 
There  were  two  doors  to  the  room,  one  from 
which  her  brother  had  disappeared,  which 
led  to  the  steps,  the  other  giving  on  the  back 
gallery,  looking  inland.  With  a  quick  in 
stinct  she  caught  up  her  gun  and  ran  to  that 
one,  but  not  before  a  rapid  scramble  near 
the  railing  was  followed  by  a  cautious  open 
ing  of  the  door.  She  was  just  in  time  to 
shut  it  on  the  extended  arm  and  light  blue 
sleeve  of  an  army  overcoat  that  protruded 
through  the  opening,  and  for  a  moment 
threw  her  whole  weight  against  it. 


22        THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  A  dhrop  of  whiskey,  Miss,  for  the  love  of 
God." 

She  retained  her  hold,  cocked  her  weapon, 
and  stepped  back  a  pace  from  the  door.  The 
blue  sleeve  was  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
overcoat,  and  a  blue  cap  with  the  infantry 
blazoning,  and  the  letter  H  on  its  peak. 
They  were  for  the  moment  more  distinguish 
able  than  the  man  beneath  them  —  grimed 
and  blackened  with  the  slime  of  the  Marsh. 
But  what  could  be  seen  of  his  mud-stained 
face  was  more  grotesque  than  terrifying.  A 
combination  of  weakness  and  audacity,  in 
sinuation  and  timidity  struggled  through  the 
dirt  for  expression.  His  small  blue  eyes 
were  not  ill-natured,  and  even  the  intruding 
arm  trembled  more  from  exhaustion  than 
passion. 

"  On'y  a  dhrop,  Miss,"  he  repeated  pite- 
ously,  "  and  av  ye  pleeze,  quick !  afore  I'm 
stharved  with  the  cold  entoirely." 

She  looked  at  him  intently  —  without 
lowering  her  gun. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"Thin,  it's  the  truth  I'll  tell  ye,  Miss — 
whisth  then  !  "  he  said  in  a  half-whisper ; 
"I'm  a  desarter !  " 

"  Then  it  was  you  that  was  doggin'  us  on 
the  Marsh?" 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  D  ED  LOW  MARSH.       23 

"  It  was  the  sarjint  I  was  lavin',  Miss.'* 

She  looked  at  him  hesitatingly. 

"  Stay  outside  there ;  if  you  move  a  step 
into  the  room,  I  '11  blow  you  out  of  it." 

He  stepped  back  on  the  gallery.  She 
closed  the  door,  bolted  it,  and  still  holding 
the  gun,  opened  a  cupboard,  poured  out  a 
glass  of  whiskey,  and  returning  to  the  door, 
opened  it  and  handed  him  the  liquor. 

She  watched  him  drain  it  eagerly,  saw  the 
fiery  stimulant  put  life  into  his  shivering 
frame,  trembling  hands,  and  kindle  his  dull 
eye  —  and  —  quietly  raised  her  gun  again. 

"  Ah,  put  it  down,  Miss,  put  it  down ! 
Fwhot  's  the  use  ?  Sure  the  bullets  yee  carry 
in  them  oiyes  of  yours  is  more  deadly !  It 's 
out  here  oi  '11  sthand,  glory  be  to  God,  all 
night,  without  movin'  a  fut  till  the  sarjint 
comes  to  take  me,  av  ye  won't  levil  them 
oiyes  at  me  like  that.  Ah,  whirra  !  look  at 
that  now  !  but  it's  a  gooddess  she  is  —  the 
livin'  Jaynus  of  warr,  standin'  there  like  a 
statoo,  wid  her  alybaster  fut  put  forward." 

In  her  pride  and  conscious  superiority, 
any  suggestion  of  shame  at  thus  appearing 
before  a  common  man  and  a  mendicant  was 
as  impossible  to  her  nature  as  it  would  have 
been  to  a  queen  or  the  goddess  of  his  simile. 


24   THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

His  presence  and  his  compliment  alike  passed 
her  calm  modesty  unchallenged.  The 
wretched  scamp  recognized  the  fact  and  felt 
its  power,  and  it  was  with  a  superstitious 
reverence  asserting  itself  through  his  native 
extravagance  that  he  raised  his  grimy  hand 
to  his  cap  in  military  salute  and  became  re 
spectfully  rigid. 

"  Then  the  sodgers  were  huntin'  you  ?  "  she 
said  thoughtfully,  lowering  her  weapon. 

"  Thrue  for  you,  Miss  —  they  worr,  and 
it 's  meself  that  was  lyin'  flat  in  the  ditch  wid 
me  faytures  makin'  an  illigant  cast  in  the 
mud  —  more  betoken,  as  ye  see  even  now  — 
and  the  sarjint  and  his  daytail  thrampin' 
round  me.  It  was  thin  that  the  mortial  cold 
sthruck  thro'  me  mouth,  and  made  me  wake 
for  the  whiskey  that  would  resthore  me." 

"  What  did  you  desert  fer  ?  " 

"  Ah,  list  to  that  now  !  Fwhat  did  I  de- 
sart  fer  ?  Shure  ev  there  was  the  ghost  of 
an  inemy  round,  it 's  meself  that  would  be  in 
the  front  now !  But  it  was  the  letfchers  from 
me  ould  mother,  Miss,  that  is  sthruck  wid 
a  mortial  illness  —  long  life  to  her !  —  in 
County  Clare,  and  me  sisthers  in  Ninth 
Avenue  in  New  York,  fornint  the  daypo,  that 
is  brekken  their  harruts  over  me  listin'  in 


THE   HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       25 

the  Fourth  Iiifanthry  to  do  duty  in  a  hay- 
then  wilderness.  Av  it  was  the  cavalry  — 
and  it 's  me  own  father  that  was  in  the  In- 
nishkillen  Dthragoons,  Miss  —  oi  would  n't 
moind.  Wid  a  horse  betune  me  legs,  it 's 
on  parade  oi  'd  be  now,  Miss,  and  not  wan- 
dhering  over  the  bare  flure  of  the  Marsh, 
stharved  wid  the  cold,  the  thirst,  and  hun 
ger,  wid  the  mud  and  the  moire  thick  on  me  ; 
facin'  an  illigant  young  leddy  as  is  the  ekal 
ov  a  Fayld  Marshal's  darter  —  not  to  sphake 
ov  Kernal  Preston's  —  ez  couldn't  hold  a 
candle  to  her." 

Brought  up  on  the  Spanish  frontier,  Mag 
gie  Culpepper  was  one  of  the  few  American 
girls  who  was  not  familiar  with  the  Irish 
race.  The  rare  smile  that  momentarily  lit 
up  her  petulant  mouth  seemed  to  justify  the 
intruder's  praise.  But  it  passed  quickly, 
and  she  returned  dryly : 

"  That  means  you  want  more  drink,  suthin' 
to  eat,  and  clothes.  Suppose  my  brother 
comes  back  and  ketches  you  here  ?  " 

"  Shure,  Miss,  he  's  just  now  hunten  me, 
along  wid  his  two  haythen  Diggers,  beyond 
the  laygoon  there.  It  worr  the  yellar  one 
that  sphotted  me  lyin'  there  in  the  ditch ; 
it  worr  only  your  own  oiyes,  Miss  —  more 


26        THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

power  to  their  beauty  for  that !  —  that  saw 
me  folly  him  unbeknownst  here  ;  and  that 
desaved  them,  ye  see  !  " 

The  young  girl  remained  for  an  instant 
silent  and  thoughtful. 

u  \\re're  no  friends  of  the  Fort,"  she  said 
finally,  "  but  I  don't  reckon  for  that  reason 
my  brother  will  cotton  to  you.  Stay  out 
thar  where  ye  are,  till  I  come  to  ye.  If  you 
hear  me  sin  gin'  again,  you  '11  know  he  's 
come  back,  and  ye  'd  better  scoot  with  what 
you  Ve  already  got,  and  be  thankful." 

She  shut  the  door  again  and  locked  it, 
went  into  the  dining-room,  returned  with 
some  provisions  wrapped  in  paper,  took  a 
common  wicker  flask  from  the  wall,  passed 
into  her  brother's  bedroom,  and  came  out 
with  a  flannel  shirt,  overalls,  and  a  coarse 
Indian  blanket,  and,  reopening  the  door, 
placed  them  before  the  astonished  and  de 
lighted  vagabond.  His  eye  glistened;  he 
began,  "  Glory  be  to  God,"  but  for  once  his 
habitual  extravagance  failed  him.  Nature 
triumphed  with  a  more  eloquent  silence  over 
his  well-worn  art.  He  hurriedly  wiped  his 
begrimed  face  and  eyes  with  the  shirt  she 
had  given  him,  and  catching  the  sleeve  of 
her  rough  pea-jacket  in  his  dirty  hand, 
raised  it  to  his  lips. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.   27 

"  Go !  "  she  said  imperiously.  "  Get  away 
while  you  can." 

"  Av  it  vas  me  last  words  —  it 's  speechless 
oi  am,"  he  stammered,  and  disappeared  over 
the  railing. 

She  remained  for  a  moment  holding  the 
door  half  open,  and  gazing  into  the  dark 
ness  that  seemed  to  flow  in  like  a  tide.  Then 
she  shut  it,  and  going  into  her  bedroom  re 
sumed  her  interrupted  toilette.  When  she 
emerged  again  she  was  smartly  stockinged 
and  slippered,  and  even  the  blue  serge  skirt 
was  exchanged  for  a  bright  print,  with  a 
white  fichu  tied  around  her  throat.  An  at 
tempt  to  subdue  her  rebellious  curls  had  re 
sulted  in  the  construction  from  their  ruins 
of  a  low  Norman  arch  across  her  forehead 
with  pillared  abutments  of  ringlets.  When 
her  brother  returned  a  few  moments  later 
she  did  not  look  up,  but  remained,  perhaps 
a  little  ostentatiously,  bending  over  the  fire. 

"  Bob  allowed  that  the  Fort  boat  was 
huntin'  men  —  deserters,  I  reckon,"  said  Jim 
aggrievedly.  "  Wanted  me  to  believe  that 
he  saw  one  on  the  Marsh  hidin'.  On'y  an 
Injin  lie,  I  reckon,  to  git  a  little  extra  fire 
water,  for  toting  me  out  to  the  bresh  on  a 
fool's  errand." 


28       THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  Oh,  that 's  where  you  went !  "  said  Mag 
gie,  addressing  the  fire.  "  Since  when  hev 
you  tuk  partnership  with  the  Guv'nment 
and  Kernel  Preston  to  hunt  up  and  take 
keer  of  their  property  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  ain't  goin'  to  hev  such  wreckage 
as  they  pick  up  and  enlist  set  adrift  on  our 
marshes,  Mag,"  said  Jim  decidedly. 

"  What  would  you  hev  done  had  you 
ketched  him  ? "  said  Maggie,  looking  sud 
denly  into  her  brother's  face. 

"  Given  him  a  dose  of  snipe-shot  that  he'd 
remember,  and  be  thankful  it  was  n't  slugs," 
said  Jim  promptly.  Observing  a  deeper  seri 
ousness  in  her  attitude,  he  added,  "  Why,  if 
it  was  in  war-time  he  'd  get  a  ball  from  them 
sodgers  on  sight." 

"  Yes ;  but  you  ain't  got  no  call  to  inter 
fere,"  said  Maggie. 

"  Ain't  I  ?  Why,  he  's  no  better  than  an 
outlaw.  I  ain't  sure  that  he  has  n't  been 
stealin'  or  killin'  somebody  over  theer." 

"  Not  that  man  !  "  said  Maggie  impul 
sively. 

"  Not  what  man  ?  "  said  her  brother,  fac 
ing  her  quickly. 

«  Why,"  returned  Maggie,  repairing  her 
indiscretion  with  feminine  dexterity,  "  not 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     29 

any  man  who  might  have  knocked  you  and 
me  over  on  the  marshes  in  the  dusk,  and 
grabbed  our  guns." 

"Wish  he'd  hev  tried  it,"  said  the 
brother,  with  a  superior  smile,  but  a  quickly 
rising  color.  "  Where  d'  ye  suppose  /  'd  hev 
been  all  the  while  ?  " 

Maggie  saw  her  mistake,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  resolved  to  keep  a  secret 
from  her  brother  —  overnight.  "  Supper  's 
gettin'  cold,"  she  said,  rising. 

They  went  into  the  dining-room  —  an 
apartment  as  plainly  furnished  as  the  one 
they  had  quitted,  but  in  its  shelves,  cup 
boards,  and  closely  fitting  boarding  bearing 
out  the  general  nautical  suggestion  of  the 
house  —  and  seated  themselves  before  a 
small  table  on  which  their  frugal  meal  was 
spread.  In  this  tete-a-tete  position  Jim  sud 
denly  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  and 
stared  at  his  sister. 

"  Hello !  " 

"  What  's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Maggie, 
starting  slightly.  "  How  you  do  skeer 
one." 

"  Who 's  been  prinkin',  eh  ?  " 

"  My  ha'r  was  in  kinks  all  along  o'  that 
hat,"  said  Maggie,  with  a  return  of  higher 


30  THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSU. 

color,  "  and  I  had  to  straighten  it.  It 's  a 
boy's  hat,  not  a  girl's." 

"  But  that  necktie  and  that  gown  —  and 
all  those  frills  and  tuckers  ?  "  continued  Jim 
generalizing,  with  a  rapid  twirling  of  his 
fingers  over  her.  "  Are  you  expectiii'  Judge 
Martin,  or  the  Expressman,  this  evening  ?  " 

Judge  Martin  was  the  lawyer  of  Log- 
port,  who  had  proven  her  father's  will,  and 
had  since  raved  about  his  single  interview 
with  the  Kingfisher's  beautiful  daughter ;  the 
Expressman  was  a  young  fellow  who  was 
popularly  supposed  to  have  left  his  heart 
while  delivering  another  valuable  package 
on  Maggie  in  person,  and  had  "  never  been 
the  same  man  since."  It  was  a  well-worn 
fraternal  pleasantry  that  had  done  duty 
many  a  winter's  evening,  as  a  happy  combi 
nation  of  moral  admonition  and  cheerful 
ness.  Maggie  usually  paid  it  the  tribute  of 
a  quick  little  laugh  and  a  sisterly  pinch,  but 
that  evening  those  marks  of  approbation 
were  withheld. 

"  Jim  dear,"  said  she,  when  their  Spartan 
repast  was  concluded  and  they  were  reestab 
lished  before  the  living-room  fire.  "  What 
was  it  the  Redwood  Mill  Kempany  offered 
you  for  that  piece  near  Dead  Man's 
Slough?" 


THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     31 

Jim  took  his  pipe  from  his  lips  long 
enough  to  say,  "  Ten  thousand  dollars,"  and 
put  it  back  again. 

44  And  what  do  ye  kalkilate  all  our  prop 
erty,  letting  alone  this  yer  house,  and  the 
driftwood  front,  is  worth  all  together  ?  " 

"  Includin'  wot  the  Gov'nment  owes  us  ?  — 
for  that 's  all  ours,  ye  know  ? "  said  Jim 
quickly. 

"No  —  leavin'  that  out  —  jest  for  greens, 
you  know,"  suggested  Maggie. 

"  Well  nigh  onter  a  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  thousand  dollars,  I  reckon,  by  and 
large." 

"  That 's  a  heap  o'  money,  Jim  !  I  reckon 
old  Kernel  Preston  would  n't  raise  that  in  a 
hundred  years,"  continued  Maggie,  warming 
her  knees  by  the  fire. 

"  In  five  million  years,"  said  Jim,  promptly 
sweeping  away  further  discussion.  After  a 
pause  he  added,  "  You  and  me,  Mag,  kin  see 
anybody's  pile,  and  go  'em  fifty  thousand 
better." 

There  were  a  few  moments  of  complete 
silence,  in  which  Maggie  smoothed  her 
knees,  and  Jim's  pipe,  which  seemed  to  have 
become  gorged  and  apoplectic  with  its  own 
er's  wealth,  snored  unctuously. 


32  THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  Jim  dear,  what  if  —  it 's  on'y  an  idea 
of  mine,  you  know  —  what  if  you  sold  that 
piece  to  the  Redwood  Mill,  and  we  jest  tuk 
that  money  and  —  and  —  and  jest  lifted  the 
ha'r  offer  them  folks  at  Logport  ?  Jest 
astonished  'em  !  Jest  tuk  the  best  rooms 
in  that  new  hotel,  got  a  hoss  and  buggy, 
dressed  ourselves,  you  and  me,  fit  to  kill,  and 
made  them  Fort  people  take  a  back  seat  in 
the  Lord's  Tabernacle,  oncet  for  all.  You 
see  what  I  mean,  Jim,"  she  said  hastily,  as 
her  brother  seemed  to  be  succumbing,  like 
his  pipe,  in  apoplectic  astonishment,  "  jest 
on'y  to  show  'em  what  we  could  do  if  we 
keerd.  Lord  I  when  we  done  it  and  spent 
the  money  we  'd  jest  snap  our  fingers  and 
skip  back  yer  ez  nat'ral  ez  life  !  Ye  don't 
think,  Jim,"  she  said,  suddenly  turning 
half  fiercely  upon  him,  "  that  I  'd  allow  to 
live  among  'em  —  to  stay  a  menet  after 
that !  " 

Jim  laid  down  his  pipe  and  gazed  at  his 
sister  with  stony  deliberation.  "  And  — 
what  —  do  —  you  —  kalkilate  —  to  make 
by  all  that  ?  "  he  said  with  scornful  distinct 
ness. 

"  Why,  jest  to  show  'em  we  have  got 
money,  and  could  buy  'em  all  up  if  we 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  D  ED  LOW  MARSH.  33 

wanted  to,"  returned  Maggie,  sticking  boldly 
to  her  guns,  albeit  with  a  vague  conviction 
that  her  fire  was  weakened  through  eleva 
tion,  and  somewhat  alarmed  at  the  delibera 
tion  of  the  enemy. 

"  And  you  mean  to  say  they  don't  know 
it  now,"  he  continued  with  slow  derision. 

"  No,"  said  Maggie.  "  Why,  theer  's  that 
new  school-marm  over  at  Logport,  you  know, 
Jim,  the  one  that  wanted  to  take  your  picter 
in  your  boat  for  a  young  smuggler  or  fancy 
pirate  or  Eyetalian  fisherman,  and  allowed 
that  you  'r  handsomed  some,  and  offered  to 
pay  you  for  sittin'  —  do  you  reckon  she  'd 
believe  you  owned  the  land  her  schoolhouse 
was  built  on.  No !  Lots  of  'em  don't.  Lots 
of  'em  thinks  we  're  poor  and  low  down  — 
and  them  ez  does  n't,  thinks  "  — 

"  What  ?  "  asked  her  brother  sharply. 

"That  we're  mean." 

The  quick  color  came  to  Jim's  cheek. 
"  So,"  he  said,  facing  her  quickly,  "  for  the 
sake  of  a  lot  of  riff-raff  and  scum  that 's 
drifted  here  around  us  —  jest  for  the  sake  of 
cuttin'  a  swell  before  them  —  you  '11  go  out 
among  the  hounds  ez  allowed  your  mother 
was  a  Spanish  nigger  or  a  kanaka,  ez  called 
your  father  a  pirate  and  landgrabber,  ez 


34    THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEL  LOW  MARSH. 

much  as  allowed  he  was  shot  by  some  one  or 
killed  himself  a  purpose,  ez  said  you  was  a 
heathen  and  a  looney  because  you  did  n't  go 
to  school  or  church  along  with  their  trash, 
ez  kept  away  from  Maw's  sickness  ez  if  it 
was  smallpox,  and  Dad's  fun'ral  ez  if  he 
was  a  hoss-thief,  and  left  you  and  me  to 
watch  his  coffin  on  the  marshes  all  night  till 
the  tide  kem  back.  And  now  you  —  you 
that  jined  hands  with  me  that  night  over  our 
father  lyin'  there  cold  and  despised  —  ez  if 
he  was  a  dead  dog  thrown  up  by  the  tide  — 
and  swore  that  ez  long  ez  that  tide  ebbed 
and  flowed  it  could  n't  bring  you  to  them,  or 
them  to  you  agin !  You  now  want  —  what  ? 
What?  Why,  to  go  and  cast  your  lot 
among  'em,  and  live  among  'em,  and  join  in 
their  God-forsaken  holler  foolishness,  and  — 
and  —  and  "  — 

"  Stop !  It 's  a  lie  !  I  did  nt  say  that. 
Don't  you  dare  to  say  it ! "  said  the  girl, 
springing  to  her  feet,  and  facing  her  brother 
in  turn,  with  flashing  eyes. 

For  a  moment  the  two  stared  at  each  other 
—  it  might  have  been  as  in  a  mirror,  so  per 
fectly  were  their  passions  reflected  in  each 
line,  shade,  and  color  of  the  other's  face.  It 
was  as  if  they  had  each  confronted  their  own 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  35 

passionate  and  willful  souls,  and  were  fright 
ened.  It  had  often  occurred  before,  always 
with  the  same  invariable  ending.  The 
young  man's  eyes  lowered  first ;  the  girl's 
filled  with  tears. 

"  Well,  ef  ye  did  n't  mean  that,  what  did 
ye  mean  ? "  said  Jim,  sinking,  with  sullen 
apology,  back  into  his  chair. 

"I  —  only  —  meant  it  —  for  —  for  —  re 
venge  ! "  sobbed  Maggie. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Jim,  as  if  allowing  his  higher 
nature  to  be  touched  by  this  noble  instinct. 
"  But  I  did  n't  jest  see  where  the  revenge 
kem  in." 

"  No  ?  But,  never  mind  now,  Jim,"  said 
Maggie,  ostentatiously  ignoring,  after  the 
fashion  of  her  sex,  the  trouble  she  had  pro 
voked  ;  "  but  to  think  —  that  —  that  —  you 
thought" —  (sobbing). 

"  But  I  did  n't,  Mag  "  —  (caressingly). 

With  this  very  vague  and  impotent  con 
clusion,  Maggie  permitted  herself  to  be 
drawn  beside  her  brother,  and  for  a  few  mo 
ments  they  plumed  each  other's  ruffled  feath 
ers,  and  smoothed  each  other's  lifted  crests, 
like  two  beautiful  young  specimens  of  that 
halcyon  genus  to  which  they  were  popularly 
supposed  to  belong.  At  the  end  of  half  an 


36     THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

hour  Jim  rose,  and,  yawning  slightly,  said 
in  a  perfunctory  way  : 

"Where's  the  book?" 

The  book  in  question  was  the  Bible.  It 
had  been  the  self-imposed  custom  of  these 
two  young  people  to  read  aloud  a  chapter 
every  night  as  their  one  vague  formula  of 
literary  and  religious  discipline.  When  it 
was  produced,  Maggie,  presuming  on  his 
affectionate  and  penitential  condition,  sug 
gested  that  to-night  he  should  pick  out 
"suthin'  interestin'."  But  this  unorthodox 
frivolity  was  sternly  put  aside  by  Jim  — 
albeit,  by  way  of  compromise,  he  agreed  to 
"  chance  it,"  i.  e.,  open  its  pages  at  random. 

He  did  so.  Generally  he  allowed  himself 
a  moment's  judicious  pause  for  a  certain 
chaste  preliminary  inspection  necessary  be 
fore  reading  aloud  to  a  girl.  To-night  he 
omitted  that  modest  precaution,  and  in  a 
pleasant  voice,-  which  in  reading  was  singu 
larly  free  from  colloquial  infelicities  of  pro 
nunciation,  began  at  once : 

" '  Curse  ye  Meroz,  said  the  angel  of  the 
Lord,  curse  ye  bitterly  the  inhabitants 
thereof ;  because  they  came  not  to  the  help 
of  the  Lord,  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against 
the  mighty.'  " 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     37 

"  Oh,  you  looked  first,"  said  Maggie. 

"I  didn't  now  —  honest  Injin!  I  just 
opened." 

"Go  on,"  said  Maggie,  eagerly  shoving 
him  and  interposing  her  neck  over  his 
shoulder. 

And  Jim  continued  Deborah's  wonderful 
song  of  Jael  and  Sisera  to  the  bitter  end  of 
its  strong  monosyllabic  climax. 

"There,"  he  said,  closing  the  volume, 
"that's  what  /  call  revenge.  That's  the 
real  Scripture  thing  —  no  fancy  frills  theer." 

"  Yes ;  but,  Jim  dear,  don't  you  see  that 
she  treated  him  first  —  sorter  got  round  him 
with  free  milk  and  butter,  and  reg'larly 
blandished  him,"  argued  Maggie  earnestly. 

But  Jim  declined  to  accept  this  feminine 
suggestion,  or  to  pursue  the  subject  further, 
and  after  a  fraternal  embrace  they  separated 
for  the  night.  Jim  lingered  long  enough  to 
look  after  the  fastening  of  the  door  and  win 
dows,  and  Maggie  remained  for  some  mo 
ments  at  her  casement,  looking  across  the 
gallery  to  the  Marsh  beyond. 

The  moon  had  risen,  the  tide  was  half  up. 
Whatever  sign  or  trace  of  alien  footprint 
or  occupation  had  been  there  was  already 
smoothly  obliterated ;  even  the  configuration 


38     THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

of  the  land  had  changed.  A  black  cape  had 
disappeared,  a  level  line  of  shore  had  been 
eaten  into  by  teeth  of  glistening  silver.  The 
whole  dark  surface  of  the  Marsh  was  begin 
ning  to  be  streaked  with  shining  veins  as  if 
a  new  life  was  coursing  through  it.  Part  of 
the  open  bay  before  the  Fort,  encroaching 
upon  the  shore,  seemed  in  the  moonlight  to 
be  reaching  a  white  and  outstretched  arm 
towards  the  nest  of  the  Kingfisher. 


in. 

THE  reveille  at  Fort  Redwood  had  been 
supplemented  full  five  minutes  by  the  voice 
of  Lieutenant  George  Calvert's  servant,  be 
fore  that  young  officer  struggled  from  his 
bed.  His  head  was  splitting,  his  tongue  and 
lips  were  dry  and  feverish,  his  bloodshot 
eyes  were  shrinking  from  the  insufferable 
light  of  the  day,  his  mind  a  confused  medley 
of  the  past  night  and  the  present  morning, 
of  cards  and  wild  revelry,  and  the  vision  of 
a  reproachfully  trim  orderly  standing  at  his 
door  with  reports  and  orders  which  he  now 
held  composedly  in  his  hand.  For  Lieuten 
ant  Calvert  had  been  enjoying  a  symposium 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     39 

variously  known  as  "  Stag  Feed  "  and  "  A 
Wild  Stormy  Night "  with  several  of  his 
brother  officers,  and  a  sickening  conviction 
that  it  was  not  the  first  or  the  last  time  he 
had  indulged  in  these  festivities.  At  that 
moment  he  loathed  himself,  and  then  after 
the  usual  derelict  fashion  cursed  the  fate 
that  had  sent  him,  after  graduating,  to  a 
frontier  garrison  —  the  dull  monotony  of 
whose  duties  made  the  Border  horse-play  of 
dissipation  a  relief.  Already  he  had  reached 
the  miserable  point  of  envying  the  veteran 
capacities  of  his  superiors  and  equals.  "  If 
I  could  drink  like  Kirby  or  Crowninshield, 
or  if  there  was  any  other  cursed  thing  a  man 
could  do  in  this  hole,"  he  had  wretchedly  re 
peated  to  himself,  after  each  misspent  occa 
sion,  and  yet  already  he  was  looking  for 
ward  to  them  as  part  of  a  '  sub's  '  duty  and 
worthy  his  emulation.  Already  the  dream  of 
social  recreation  fostered  by  West  Point  had 
been  rudely  dispelled.  Beyond  the  garri 
son  circle  of  Colonel  Preston's  family  and 
two  officers'  wives,  there  was  no  society.  The 
vague  distrust  and  civil  jealousy  with  which 
some  frontier  communities  regard  the  Fed 
eral  power,  heightened  in  this  instance  by 
the  uncompromising  attitude  the  Government 


40      THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

had  taken  towards  the  settlers'  severe  Indian 
policy,  had  kept  the  people  of  Logport  aloof 
from  the  Fort.  The  regimental  band  might 
pipe  to  them  on  Saturdays,  but  they  would 
not  dance. 

Howbeit,  Lieutenant  Calvert  dressed  him 
self  with  uncertain  hands  but  mechanical 
regularity  and  neatness,  and,  under  the  auto 
matic  training  of  discipline  and  duty,  man 
aged  to  button  his  tunic  tightly  over  his 
feelings,  to  pull  himself  together  with  his 
sword-belt,  compressing  a  still  cadet-like 
waist,  and  to  present  that  indescribable  com 
bination  of  precision  and  jauntiness  which 
his  brother  officers  too  often  allowed  to  lapse 
into  frontier  carelessness.  His  closely  clipped 
light  hair,  yet  dripping  from  a  plunge  in 
the  cold  water,  had  been  brushed  and  parted 
with  military  exactitude,  and  when  sur 
mounted  by  his  cap,  with  the  peak  in  an  art 
ful  suggestion  of  extra  smartness  tipped  for 
ward  over  his  eyes,  only  his  pale  face  —  a 
shade  lighter  than  his  little  blonde  mous 
tache  —  showed  his  last  night's  excesses.  He 
was  mechanically  reaching  for  his  sword  and 
staring  confusedly  at  the  papers  on  his  table 
when  his  servant  interrupted  : 

"  Major  Bromley  arranged  that  Lieuten- 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     41 

ant  Kirby  takes  your  sash  this  morning,  as 
you  're  not  well,  sir ;  and  you  're  to  report  for 
special  to  the  colonel,"  he  added,  pointing 
discreetly  to  the  envelope. 

Touched  by  this  consideration  of  his  su 
perior,  Major  Bromley,  who  had  been  one  of 
the  veterans  of  last  night's  engagement,  Cal- 
vert  mastered  the  contents  of  the  envelope 
without  the  customary  anathema  of  specials, 
said,  "  Thank  you,  Parks,"  and  passed  out 
on  the  veranda. 

The  glare  of  the  quiet  sunlit  quadrangle, 
clean  as  a  well-swept  floor,  the  whitewashed 
walls  and  galleries  of  the  barrack  buildings 
beyond,  the  white  and  green  palisade  of 
officers'  cottages  on  either  side,  and  the  glit 
ter  of  a  sentry's  bayonet,  were  for  a  moment 
intolerable  to  him.  Yet,  by  a  kind  of  subtle 
irony,  never  before  had  the  genius  and  spirit 
of  the  vocation  he  had  chosen  seemed  to  be 
as  incarnate  as  in  the  scene  before  him.  Se 
clusion,  self-restraint,  cleanliness,  regularity, 
sobriety,  the  atmosphere  of  a  wholesome  life, 
the  austere  reserve  of  a  monastery  without 
its  mysterious  or  pensive  meditation,  were  all 
there.  To  escape  which,  he  had  of  his  own 
free  will  successively  accepted  a  fool's  dis 
traction,  the  inevitable  result  of  which  was, 


42  THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

the  viewing  of  them  the  next  morning  with 
tremulous  nerves  and  aching  eyeballs. 

An  hour  later,  Lieutenant  George  Calvert 
had  received  his  final  instructions  from  Col 
onel  Preston  to  take  charge  of  a  small  de 
tachment  to  recover  and  bring  back  certain 
deserters,  but  notably  one,  Dennis  M'Caf- 
frey  of  Company  H,  charged  additionally 
with  mutinous  solicitation  and  example.  As 
Calvert  stood  before  his  superior,  that  distin 
guished  officer,  whose  oratorical  powers  had 
been  considerably  stimulated  through  a  long 
course  of  "  returning  thanks  for  the  Army," 
slightly  expanded  his  chest  and  said  pater 
nally  : 

"  I  am  aware,  Mr.  Calvert,  that  duties 
of  this  kind  are  somewhat  distasteful  to 
young  officers,  and  are  apt  to  be  considered 
in  the  light  of  police  detail;  but  I  must  re 
mind  you  that  no  one  part  of  a  soldier's 
duty  can  be  held  more  important  or  honora 
ble  than  another,  and  that  the  fulfilment  of 
any  one,  however  trifling,  must,  with  honor 
to  himself  and  security  to  his  comrades,  re 
ceive  his  fullest  devotion.  A  sergeant  and  a 
file  of  men  might  perform  your  duty,  but  I 
require,  in  addition,  the  discretion,  courtesy, 
and  consideration  of  a  gentleman  who  will 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  43 

command  an  equal  respect  from  those  with 
whom  his  duty  brings  him  in  contact.  The 
unhappy  prejudices  which  the  settlers  show 
to  the  military  authority  here  render  this,  as 
you  are  aware,  a  difficult  service,  but  I  be 
lieve  that  you  will,  without  forgetting  the 
respect  due  to  yourself  and  the  Government 
you  represent,  avoid  arousing  these  preju 
dices  by  any  harshness,  or  inviting  any  con 
flict  with  the  civil  authority.  The  limits  of 
their  authority  you  will  find  in  your  written 
instructions ;  but  you  might  gain  their  confi 
dence,  and  impress  them,  Mr.  Calvert,  with 
the  idea  of  your  being  their  auxiliary  in  the 
interests  of  justice  —  you  understand.  Even 
if  you  are  unsuccessful  in  bringing  back  the 
men,  you  will  do  your  best  to  ascertain  if 
their  escape  has  been  due  to  the  sympathy 
of  the  settlers,  or  even  with  their  preliminary 
connivance.  They  may  not  be  aware  that 
inciting  enlisted  men  to  desert  is  a  criminal 
offence  ;  you  will  use  your  own  discretion  in 
informing  them  of  the  fact  or  not,  as  occa 
sion  may  serve  you.  I  have  only  to  add, 
that  while  you  are  on  the  waters  of  this  bay 
and  the  land  covered  by  its  tides,  you  have 
no  opposition  of  authority,  and  are  respon 
sible  to  no  one  but  your  military  superiors. 


44     THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

Good-bye,  Mr.  Calvert.  Let  me  hear  a  good 
account  of  you." 

Considerably  moved  by  Colonel  Preston's 
manner,  which  was  as  paternal  and  real  as 
his  rhetoric  was  somewhat  perfunctory,  Cal 
vert  half  forgot  his  woes  as  he  stepped  from 
the  commandant's  piazza.  But  he  had  to 
face  a  group  of  his  brother  officers,  who 
were  awaiting  him. 

"  Good-bye,  Calvert,"  said  Major  Brom 
ley  ;  "a  day  or  two  out  on  grass  won't  hurt 
you — and  a  change  from  commissary  whis 
key  will  put  you  all  right.  By  the  way,  if 
you  hear  of  any  better  stuff  at  Westport 
than  they  're  giving  us  here,  sample  it  and 
let  us  know.  Take  care  of  yourself.  Give 
your  men  a  chance  to  talk  to  you  now  and 
then,  and  you  may  get  something  from  them, 
especially  Donovan.  Keep  your  eye  on 
Ramon.  You  can  trust  your  sergeant  straight 
along." 

"  Good-bye,  George,"  said  Kirby.  "  I  sup 
pose  the  old  man  told  you  that,  although  no 
part  of  a  soldier's  duty  was  better  than  an 
other,  your  service  was  a  very  delicate  one, 
just  fitted  for  you,  eh?  He  always  does 
when  he  's  cut  out  some  hellish  scrub-work 
for  a  chap.  And  told  you,  too,  that  as  long 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  45 

as  you  did  n't  go  ashore,  and  kept  to  a  dis 
patch-boat,  or  an  eight-oared  gig,  where  you 
could  n't  deploy  your  men,  or  dress  a  line, 
you  'd  be  invincible." 

"  He  did  say  something  like  that,"  smiled 
Calvert,  with  an  uneasy  recollection,  how 
ever,  that  it  was  the  part  of  his  superior's 
speech  that  particularly  impressed  him. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Kirby  gravely,  "  that^ 
as  an  infantry  officer,  is  clearly  your  duty." 

"  And  don't  forget,  George,"  said  Rollins 
still  more  gravely,  "  that,  whatever  may  be 
fall  you,  you  belong  to  a  section  of  that 
numerically  small  but  powerfully  diversified 
organization  —  the  American  Army.  Re 
member  that  in  the  hour  of  peril  you  can  ad 
dress  your  men  in  any  language,  and  be  per 
fectly  understood.  And  remember  that  when 
you  proudly  stand  before  them,  the  eyes  not 
only  of  your  own  country,  but  of  nearly  all 
the  others,  are  upon  you  !  Good-bye,  Geor- 
gey.  I  heard  the  major  hint  something 
about  whiskey.  They  say  that  old  pirate, 
Kingfisher  Culpepper,  had  a  stock  of  the  real 
thing  from  Robertson  County  laid  in  his 
shebang  on  the  Marsh  just  before  he  died. 
Pity  we  are  n't  on  terms  with  them,  for  the 
cubs  cannot  drink  it,  and  might  be  induced 


46   THE  HERITAGE  OF  D  ED  LOW  MARSH. 

to  sell.  Should  n't  wonder,  by  the  way,  if 
your  friend  M'Caffrey  was  hanging  round 
somewhere  there ;  he  always  had  a  keen 
scent.  You  might  confiscate  it  as  an  "  in 
citement  to  desertion,"  you  know.  The 
girl 's  pretty,  and  ought  to  be  growing  up 
now." 

But  haply  at  this  point  the  sergeant 
stopped  further  raillery  by  reporting  the 
detachment  ready;  and  drawing  his  sword, 
Calvert,  with  a  confused  head,  a  remorseful 
heart,  but  an  unfaltering  step,  marched  off 
his  men  on  his  delicate  mission. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  he  entered  Jones- 
ville.  Following  a  matter-of-fact  idea  of  his 
own,  he  had  brought  his  men  the  greater  dis 
tance  by  a  circuitous  route  through  the  woods, 
thus  avoiding  the  ostentatious  exposure  of 
his  party  on  the  open  bay  in  a  well-manned 
boat  to  an  extended  view  from  the  three 
leagues  of  shore  and  marsh  opposite.  Cross 
ing  the  stream,  which  here  separated  him 
from  the  Dedlow  Marsh  by  the  common 
ferry,  he  had  thus  been  enabled  to  halt  un- 
perceived  below  the  settlement  and  occupy 
the  two  roads  by  which  the  fugitives  could 
escape  inland.  He  had  deemed  it  not  im 
possible  that,  after  the  previous  visit  of  the 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  47 

sergeant,  the  deserters  hidden  in  the  vicinity 
might  return  to  Jonesville  in  the  belief  that 
the  visit  would  not  be  repeated  so  soon. 
Leaving  a  part  of  his  small  force  to  patrol 
the  road  and  another  to  deploy  over  the  up 
land  meadows,  he  entered  the  village.  By 
the  exercise  of  some  boyish  diplomacy  and  a 
certain  prepossessing  grace,  which  he  knew 
when  and  how  to  employ,  he  became  satisfied 
that  the  objects  of  his  quest  were  not  there  — 
however,  their  whereabouts  might  have  been 
known  to  the  people.  Dividing  his  party 
again,  he  concluded  to  take  a  corporal  and  a 
few  men  and  explore  the  lower  marshes  him 
self. 

The  preoccupation  of  duty,  exercise,  and 
perhaps,  above  all,  the  keen  stimulus  of  the 
iodine-laden  salt  air  seemed  to  clear  his  mind 
and  invigorate  his  body.  He  had  never 
been  in  the  Marsh  before,  and  enjoyed  its 
novelty  with  the  zest  of  youth.  It  was  the 
hour  when  the  tide  of  its  feathered  life  was 
at  its  flood.  Clouds  of  duck  and  teal  pass 
ing  from  the  fresh  water  of  the  river  to  the 
salt  pools  of  the  marshes  perpetually  swept 
his  path  with  flying  shadows ;  at  times  it 
seemed  as  if  even  the  uncertain  ground 
around  him  itself  arose  and  sped  away  on 


48      THE  HERITAGE   OF  LED  LOW  MARSH. 

dusky  wings.  The  vicinity  of  hidden  pools 
and  sloughs  was  betrayed  by  startled  splash- 
ings  ;  a  few  paces  from  their  marching  feet 
arose  the  sunlit  pinions  of  a  swan.  The 
air  was  filled  with  multitudinous  small  cries 
and  pipings.  In  this  vocal  confusion  it  was 
some  minutes  before  he  recognized  the  voice 
of  one  of  his  out -flankers  calling  to  the 
other. 

An  important  discovery  had  been  made. 
In  a  long  tongue  of  bushes  that  ran  down  to 
the  Marsh  they  had  found  a  mud-stained 
uniform,  complete  even  to  the  cap,  bearing 
the  initial  of  the  deserter's  company. 

"Is  there  any  hut  or  cabin  hereabouts, 
Schmidt  ?  "  asked  Calvert. 

"  Dot  vos  schoost  it,  Lefdennun,"  replied 
his  corporal,  "  Dot  vos  de  shanty  from  der 
Kingvisher  —  old  Gulbebber.  I  pet  a  dol 
lar,  py  shimminy,  dot  der  men  haf  der 
gekommt." 

He  pointed  through  the  brake  to  a  long, 
low  building  that  now  raised  itself,  white  in 
the  sunlight,  above  the  many  blackened 
piles.  Calvert  saw  in  a  single  reconnoitring 
glance  that  it  had  but  one  approach  —  the 
flight  of  steps  from  the  Marsh.  Instructing 
Ms  men  to  fall  in  on  the  outer  edge  of  the 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     49 

brake  and  await  his  orders,  he  quickly  made 
his  way  across  the  space  and  ascended  the 
steps.  Passing  along  the  gallery  he  knocked 
at  the  front  door.  There  was  no  response. 
He  repeated  his  knock.  Then  the  window 
beside  it  opened  suddenly,  and  he  was  con 
fronted  with  the  double-muzzle  of  a  long 
ducking-gun.  Glancing  instinctively  along 
the  barrels,  he  saw  at  their  other  extremity 
the  bright  eyes,  brilliant  color,  and  small  set 
mouth  of  a  remarkably  handsome  girl.  It 
was  the  fact,  and  to  the  credit  of  his  train 
ing,  that  he  paid  more  attention  to  the  eyes 
than  to  the  challenge  of  the  shining  tubes 
before  him. 

"  Jest  stop  where  you  are  —  will  you ! " 
said  the  girl  determinedly. 

Calvert's  face  betrayed  not  the  slightest 
terror  or  surprise.  Immovable  as  on  parade, 
he  carried  his  white  gloved  hand  to  his  cap, 
and  said  gently,  "  With  pleasure." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  girl  quickly ;  "  but  if 
you  move  a  step  I  '11  jest  blow  you  and  your 
gloves  offer  that  railin'  inter  the  Marsh." 

"  I  trust  not,"  returned  Calvert,  smiling, 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  Because  it  would  deprive  me  of  the  plea 
sure  of  a  few  moments'  conversation  with 


50      THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

you  —  and  I  've  only  one  pair  of  gloves  with 
me." 

He  was  still  watching  her  beautiful  eyes 
—  respectfully,  admiringly,  and  strategically. 
For  he  was  quite  convinced  that  if  he  did 
move  she  would  certainly  discharge  one  or 
both  barrels  at  him. 

"Where's  the  rest  of  you?"  she  con 
tinued  sharply. 

"  About  three  hundred  yards  away,  in  the 
covert,  not  near  enough  to  trouble  you." 

"  Will  they  come  here  ?  " 

"I  trust  not." 

"  You  trust  not  ? "  she  repeated  scorn 
fully.  "Why?" 

"  Because  they  would  be  disobeying  or 
ders." 

She  lowered  her  gun  slightly,  but  kept  her 
black  brows  levelled  at  him.  "  I  reckon 
I  'm  a  match  for  you"  she  said,  with  a 
slightly  contemptuous  glance  at  his  slight 
figure,  and  opened  the  door.  For  a  moment 
they  stood  looking  at  each  other.  He  saw, 
besides  the  handsome  face  and  eyes  that 
had  charmed  him,  a  tall  slim  figure,  made 
broader  across  the  shoulders  by  an  open  pea- 
jacket  that  showed  a  man's  red  flannel  shirt 
belted  at  the  waist  over  a  blue  skirt,  with 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     51 

the  collar  knotted  by  a  sailor's  black  hand 
kerchief,  and  turned  back  over  a  pretty 
though  sunburnt  throat.  She  saw  a  rather 
undersized  young  fellow  in  a  jaunty  undress 
uniform,  scant  of  gold  braid,  and  bearing 
only  the  single  gold  shoulder-bars  of  his 
rank,  but  scrupulously  neat  and  well  fitting. 
Light-colored  hair  cropped  close,  the  small 
est  of  light  moustaches,  clear  and  penetrat 
ing  blue  eyes,  and  a  few  freckles  completed 
a  picture  that  did  not  prepossess  her.  She 
was  therefore  the  more  inclined  to  resent  the 
perfect  ease  and  self-possession  with  which 
the  stranger  carried  off  these  manifest  de 
fects  before  her. 

She  laid  aside  the  gun,  put  her  hands 
deep  in  the  pockets  of  her  pea-jacket,  and, 
slightly  squaring  her  shoulders,  said  curtly, 
"What  do  you  want?" 

"  A  very  little  information,  which  I  trust 
it  will  not  trouble  you  to  give  me.  My  men 
have  just  discovered  the  uniform  belonging 
to  a  deserter  from  the  Fort  lying  in  the 
bushes  yonder.  Can  you  give  me  the  slight 
est  idea  how  it  came  there  ?  " 

"  What  right  have  you  trapseing  over  our 
property  ? "  she  said,  turning  upon  him 
sharply,  with  a  slight  paling  of  color. 


52     THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  None  whatever." 

"  Then  what  did  you  come  for  ?  " 

"To  ask  that  permission,  in  case  you 
would  give  me  no  information." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  my  brother,  and  not 
a  woman  ?  Were  you  afraid  ?  " 

"  He  could  hardly  have  done  me  the  honor 
of  placing  me  in  more  peril  than  you  have," 
returned  Calvert,  smiling.  "  Then  I  have 
the  pleasure  of  addressing  Miss  Culpepper  ?  " 

"  I  'm  Jim  Culpepper's  sister." 

"  And,  I  believe,  equally  able  to  give  or 
refuse  the  permission  I  ask." 

"  And  what  if  I  refuse  ?  " 

"  Then  I  have  only  to  ask  pardon  for 
having  troubled  you,  go  back,  and  return 
here  with  the  tide.  You  don't  resist  that 
with  a  shot-gun,  do  you  ?  "  he  asked  pleas 
antly. 

Maggie  Culpepper  was  already  familiar 
with  the  accepted  theory  of  the  supreme 
jurisdiction  of  the  Federal  Sea.  She  half 
turned  her  back  upon  him,  partly  to  show 
her  contempt,  but  partly  to  evade  the  domi 
nation  of  his  clear,  good-humored,  and  self- 
sustained  little  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  any  thin'  about  your  de 
serters,  nor  what  rags  o'  theirs  happen  to  be 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  53 

floated  up  here,"  she  said,  angrily,  "  and 
don't  care  to.  You  kin  do  what  you  like." 

"  Then  I  'm  afraid  I  should  remain  here 
a  little  longer,  Miss  Culpepper ;  but  my 
duty  "  — 

"  Your  wot  ?  "  she  interrupted,  disdain 
fully. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  talking  shop,"  he  said 
smilingly.  "  Then  iny  business  "  — 

"Your  business  —  pickin'  up  half-starved 
runaways !  " 

"  And,  I  trust,  sometimes  a  kind  friend," 
he  suggested,  with  a  grave  bow. 

"  You  trust  ?  Look  yer,  young  man," 
she  said,  with  her  quick,  fierce,  little  laugh, 
"  I  reckon  you  trust  a  heap  too  much  ! " 
She  would  like  to  have  added,  "  with  your 
freckled  face,  red  hair,  and  little  eyes  "  — 
but  this  would  have  obliged  her  to  face  them 
again,  which  she  did  not  care  to  do. 

Calvert  stepped  back,  lifted  his  hand  to 
his  cap,  still  pleasantly,  and  then  walked 
gravely  along  the  gallery,  down  the  steps, 
and  towards  the  cover.  From  her  window, 
unseen,  she  followed  his  neat  little  figure 
moving  undeviatingly  on,  without  looking  to 
the  left  or  right,  and  still  less  towards  the 
house  he  had  just  quitted.  Then  she  saw 


54     THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

the  sunlight  flash  on  cross-belt  plates  and 
steel  barrels,  and  a  light  blue  line  issued 
from  out  the  dark  green  bushes,  round  the 
point,  and  disappeared.  And  then  it  sud 
denly  occurred  to  her  what  she  had  been 
doing!  This,  then,  was  her  first  step  to 
wards  that  fancy  she  had  so  lately  conceived, 
quarrelled  over  with  her  brother,  and  lay 
awake  last  night  to  place  anew,  in  spite  of 
all  opposition  !  This  was  her  brilliant  idea 
of  dazzling  and  subduing  Logport  and  the 
Fort !  Had  she  grown  silly,  or  what  had 
happened  ?  Could  she  have  dreamed  of  the 
coming  of  this  whipper-snapper,  with  his  in 
sufferable  airs,  after  that  beggarly  deserter  ? 
I  am  afraid  that  for  a  few  moments  the 
miserable  fugitive  had  as  small  a  place  in 
Maggie's  sympathy  as  the  redoubtable  whip 
per-snapper  himself.  And  now  the  cherished 
dream  of  triumph  and  conquest  was  over! 
What  a  "looney"  she  had  been!  Instead 
of  inviting  him  in,  and  outdoing  him  in 
"  company  manners,"  and  "  fooling  "  him 
about  the  deserter,  and  then  blazing  upon 
him  afterwards  at  Logport  in  the  glory  of 
her  first  spent  wealth  and  finery,  she  had 
driven  him  away! 

And  now  "  he  '11  go  and   tell  —  tell   the 


THE  HERITAGE    OF  D  ED  LOW  MARSH.     55 

Fort  girls  of  his  hairbreadth  escape  from  the 
claws  of  the  Kingfisher's  daughter !  " 

The  thought  brought  a  few  bitter  tears  to 
her  eyes,  but  she  wiped  them  away.  The 
thought  brought  also  the  terrible  conviction 
that  Jim  was  right,  that  there  could  be  noth 
ing  but  open  antagonism  between  them  and 
the  traducers  of  their  parents,  as  she  herself 
had  instinctively  shown  !  But  she  presently 
wiped  that  conviction  away  also,  as  she  had 
her  tears. 

Half  an  hour  later  she  was  attracted  by 
the  appearance  from  the  windows  of  certain 
straggling  blue  spots  on  the  upland  that 
seemed  moving  diagonally  towards  the 
Marsh.  She  did  not  know  that  it  was  Cal 
ve  rt's  second  "  detail  "  joining  him,  but  be 
lieved  for  a  moment  that  he  had  not  yet 
departed,  and  was  strangely  relieved.  Still 
later  the  frequent  disturbed  cries  of  coot, 
heron,  and  marsh-hen,  recognizing  the  pres 
ence  of  unusual  invaders  of  their  solitude, 
distracted  her  yet  more,  and  forced  her  at 
last  with  increasing  color  and  an  uneasy 
sense  of  shyness  to  steal  out  to  the  gallery 
for  a  swift  furtive  survey  of  the  Marsh.  But 
an  utterly  unexpected  sight  met  her  eyes, 
and  kept  her  motionless, 


56       THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

The  birds  were  rising  everywhere  and 
drifting  away  with  querulous  perturbation 
before  a  small  but  augmented  blue  detach 
ment  that  was  moving  with  monotonous  reg 
ularity  towards  the  point  of  bushes  where  she 
had  seen  the  young  officer  previously  disap 
pear.  In  their  midst,  between  two  soldiers 
with  fixed  bayonets,  marched  the  man  whom 
even  at  that  distance  she  instantly  recog 
nized  as  the  deserter  of  the  preceding  night, 
in  the  very  clothes  she  had  given  him.  To 
complete  her  consternation,  a  little  to  the 
right  inarched  the  young  officer  also,  but 
accompanied  by,  and  apparently  on  the 
most  amicable  terms  with,  Jim  —  her  own 
brother ! 

To  forget  all  else  and  dart  down  the 
steps,  flying  towards  the  point  of  bushes, 
scarcely  knowing  why  or  what  she  was  doing, 
was  to  Maggie  the  impulse  and  work  of  a 
moment.  When  she  had  reached  it  the  party 
were  not  twenty  paces  away.  But  here  a 
shyness  and  hesitation  again  seized  her,  and 
she  shrank  back  in  the  bushes  with  an  instinc 
tive  cry  to  her  brother  inarticulate  upon  her 
lips.  They  came  nearer,  they  were  opposite 
to  her ;  her  brother  Jim  keeping  step  with 
the  invader,  and  even  conversing  with  him 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       57 

with  an  animation  she  had  seldom  seen  upon 
his  face  —  they  passed  !  She  had  been  unno 
ticed  except  by  one.  The  roving  eye  of  the 
deserter  had  detected  her  handsome  face 
among  the  leaves,  slightly  turned  towards  it, 
and  poured  out  his  whole  soul  in  a  single 
swift  wink  of  eloquent  but  indescribable  con 
fidence. 

When  they  had  quite  gone,  she  crept 
back  to  the  house,  a  little  reassured,  but  still 
tremulous.  When  her  brother  returned  at 
nightfall,  he  found  her  brooding  over  the 
fire,  in  the  same  attitude  as  on  the  previous 
night. 

"  I  reckon  ye  might  hev  seen  me  go  by 
with  the  sodgers,"  he  said,  seating  himself 
beside  her,  a  little  awkwardly,  and  with  an 
unusual  assumption  of  carelessness. 

Maggie,  without  looking  up,  was  languidly 
surprised.  He  had  been  with  the  soldiers  — 
and  where  ? 

"About  two  hours  ago  I  met  this  yer 
Leftenant  Calvert,"  he  went  on  with  increas 
ing  awkwardness,  "  and  —  oh,  I  say,  Mag  — 
he  said  he  saw  you,  and  hoped  he  had  n't 
troubled  ye,  and  —  and  —  ye  saw  him, 
did  n't  ye  ?  " 

Maggie,  with  all  the  red  of  the  fire  con- 


58        THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

centrated  in  her  cheek  as  she  gazed  at  the 
flame,  believed  carelessly  "  that  she  had  seen 
a  shrimp  in  uniform  asking  questions." 

"  Oh,  he  ain't  a  bit  stuck  up,"  said  Jim 
quickly,  "  that 's  what  I  like  about  him. 
He  's  ez  nat'ral  ez  you  be,  and  tuck  my  arm, 
walkin'  around,  careless-like,  laffen  at  what 
he  was  doin',  ez  ef  it  was  a  game,  and  he 
was  n't  sole  commander  of  forty  men.  He  's 
only  a  year  or  two  older  than  me  —  and  — 
and  "  —  he  stopped  and  looked  uneasily  at 
Maggie. 

44  So  ye  Ve  bin  craw-fishin'  agin  ?  "  said 
Maggie,  in  her  deepest  and  most  scornful 
contralto. 

"  Who  's  craw-fishin'  ?  "  he  retorted,  an 
grily. 

"  What 's  this  backen  out  o'  what  you 
said  yesterday  ?  What 's  all  this  trucklin' 
to  the  Fort  now?" 

"  What  ?  Well  now,  look  yer,"  said  Jim, 
rising  suddenly,  with  reproachful  indigna 
tion,  "  darned  if  I  don't  jest  tell  ye  every- 
thin'.  I  promised  him  I  would  n't.  He 
allowed  it  would  frighten  ye." 

"  Frighten  me  !  "  repeated  Maggie  con 
temptuously,  nevertheless  with  her  cheek 
paling  again.  ''Frighten  me  —  with  what?" 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       59 

"  Well,  since  yer  so  cantankerous,  look 
yer.  We  've  been  robbed  !  " 

"  Robbed  ?  "  echoed  Maggie,  facing  him. 

"Yes,  robbed  by  that  same  deserter. 
Robbed  of  a  suit  of  my  clothes,  and  my 
whiskey-flask,  and  the  darned  skunk  had  'em 
on.  And  if  it  had  n't  bin  for  that  Leftenant 
Calvert,  and  my  givin'  him  permission  to 
hunt  him  over  the  Marsh,  we  would  n't  have 
caught  him." 

"Robbed?"  repeated  Maggie  again, 
vaguely. 

"Yes,  robbed!  Last  night,  afore  we 
came  home.  He  must  hev  got  in  yer  while 
we  was  comin'  from  the  boat." 

"  Did,  did  that  Leftenant  say  so  ?  "  stam 
mered  Maggie. 

"  Say  it,  of  course  he  did  !  and  so  do  I," 
continued  Jim,  impatiently.  "  Why,  there 
were  my  very  clothes  on  his  back,  and  he 
daren't  deny  it.  And  if -you'd  hearkened  to 
me  jest  now,  instead  of  flyin'  oft'  in  tantrums, 
you  'd  see  that  that 's  jest  how  we  got  him, 
and  how  me  and  the  Leftenant  joined  hands 
in  it.  I  did  n't  give  him  permission  to  hunt 
deserters,  but  thieves.  I  did  n't  help  him  to 
ketch  the  man  that  deserted  from  him,  but 
the  skunk  that  took  my  clothes.  For  when 


60       THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

the  Leftenant  found  the  man's  old  uniform 
in  the  bush,  he  nat'rally  kalkilated  he  must 
hev  got  some  other  duds  near  by  in  some 
underhand  way.  Don't  you  see?  eh?  Why, 
look,  Mag.  Darned  if  you  ain't  skeered 
after  all !  Who  'd  hev  thought  it  ?  There 
now  —  sit  down,  dear.  Why,  you  're  white 
ez  a  gull." 

He  had  his  arm  round  her  as  she  sank 
back  in  the  chair  again  with  a  forced  smile. 

"  There  now,"  he  said  with  fraternal  su 
periority,  "don't  mind  it,  Mag,  any  more. 
Why,  it 's  all  over  now.  You  bet  he  won't 
trouble  us  agin,  for  the  Leftenant  sez  that 
now  he 's  found  out  to  be  a  thief,  they  '11  jest 
turn  him  over  to  the  police,  and  he  's  sure  o' 
getten  six  months'  state  prison  fer  stealin' 
and  burglarin'  in  our  house.  But "  —  he 
stopped  suddenly  and  looked  at  his  sister's 
contracted  face  ;  "  look  yer,  Mag,  you  're  sick, 
that 's  what 's  the  matter.  Take  suthin'  "  — 

"  I  'm  better  now,"  she  said  with  an 
effort ;  "  it 's  only  a  kind  o'  blind  chill  I 
must  hev  got  on  the  Marsh  last  night. 
What 's  that  ?  " 

She  had  risen,  and  grasping  her  brother's 
arm  tightly  had  turned  quickly  to  the  win 
dow.  The  casement  had  suddenly  rattled. 


THK  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSTL       61 

"  It 's  only  the  wind  gettiii'  up.  It  looked 
like  a  sou'wester  when  I  came  in.  Lot  o* 
scud  fly  in'.  But  you  take  some  quinine, 
Mag.  Don't  you  go  now  and  get  down  sick 
like  Maw." 

Perhaps  it  was  this  well-meant  but  infeli 
citous  reference  that  brought  a  moisture  to 
her  dark  eyes,  and  caused  her  lips  to  momen 
tarily  quiver.  But  it  gave  way  to  a  quick 
determined  setting  of  her  whole  face  as  she 
turned  it  once  more  to  the  fire,  and  said, 
slowly  : 

"  I  reckon  I  '11  sleep  it  off,  if  I  go  to  bed 
now.  What  time  does  the  tide  fall." 

"  About  three,  unless  this  yer  wind  piles 
it  up  on  the  Marsh  afore  then.  Why?  " 

"  I  was  only  wonderin'  if  the  boat  wus 
safe,"  said  Maggie,  rising. 

"  You  'd  better  hoist  yourself  outside  some 
quinine,  instead  o'  talken  about  those 
things,"  said  Jim,  who  preferred  to  dis 
charge  his  fraternal  responsibility  by  active 
medication.  "  You  are  n't  fit  to  read  to 
night." 

"  Good  night,  Jim,"  she  said  suddenly, 
stopping  before  him. 

"  Good  night,  Mag."  He  kissed  her  with 
protecting  and  amiable  toleration,  gener- 


62      THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

ously  referring  her  hot  hands  and  feverish 
lips  to  that  vague  mystery  of  feminine  com 
plaint  which  man  admits  without  indorsing. 
They  separated.  Jim,  under  the  stimulus 
of  the  late  supposed  robbery,  ostentatiously 
fastening  the  doors  and  windows  with  assur 
ing  comments,  calculated  to  inspire  confi 
dence  in  his  sister's  startled  heart.  Then  he 
went  to  bed.  He  lay  awake  long  enough  to 
be  pleasantly  conscious  that  the  wind  had  in 
creased  to  a  gale,  and  to  be  lulled  again  to 
sleep  by  the  cosy  security  of  the  heavily  tim 
bered  and  tightly  sealed  dwelling  that  seemed 
to  ride  the  storm  like  the  ship  it  resembled. 
The  gale  swept  through  the  piles  beneath 
him  and  along  the  gallery  as  through  bared 
spars  and  over  wave-washed  decks.  The 
whole  structure,  attacked  above,  below,  and 
on  all  sides  by  the  fury  of  the  wind,  seemed 
at  times  to  be  lifted  in  the  air.  Once  or 
twice  .the  creaking  timbers  simulated  the 
sound  of  opening  doors  and  passing  foot 
steps,  and  again  dilated  as  if  the  gale  had 
forced  a  passage  through.  But  Jim  slept 
on  peacefully,  and  was  at  last  only  aroused 
by  the  brilliant  sunshine  staring  through  his 
window  from  the  clear  wind-swept  blue  arch 
beyond. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     63 

Dressing  himself  lazily,  he  passed  into 
the  sitting-room  and  proceeded  to  knock  at 
his  sister's  door,  as  was  his  custom  ;  he  was 
amazed  to  find  it  open  and  the  room  empty. 
Entering  hurriedly,  he  saw  that  her  bed  was 
undisturbed,  as  if  it  had  not  been  occupied, 
and  was  the  more  bewildered  to  see  a  note 
ostentatiously  pinned  upon  the  pillow,  ad 
dressed  in  pencil,  in  a  large  school-hand, 
"To  Jim." 

Opening  it  impatiently,  he  was  startled  to 
read  as  follows :  — 

"Don't  be  angry,  Jim  dear — but  it  was  all 
my  fault  —  and  I  did  n't  tell  you.  I  knew  all 
about  the  deserter,  and  I  gave  him  the  clothes 
and  things  that  they  say  he  stole.  It  was  while 
you  was  out  that  night,  and  he  came  and  begged 
of  me,  and  was  mournful  and  hidjus  to  behold. 
I  thought  I  was  helping  him,  and  getting  our 
revenge  on  the  Fort,  all  at  the  same  time. 
Don't  be  mad,  Jim  dear,  and  do  not  be  frighted 
fer  me.  I  'm  going  over  thar  to  make  it  all 
right  —  to  free  him  of  stealing  —  to  have  you 
left  out  of  it  all  —  and  take  it  all  on  myself. 
Don't  you  be  a  bit  feared  for  me.  I  ain't  skeert 
of  the  wind  or  of  going.  I  '11  close  reef  every 
thing,  clear  the  creek,  stretch  across  to  Injen 
Island,  hugg  the  Point,  and  bear  up  fer  Logport. 
Dear  Jim  —  don't  get  mad — but  I  couldn't 


64      THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

bear  this  fooling  of  you  nor  him  —  and  that  man 
being  took  for  stealing  any  longer  !  —  Your  lov 
ing  sister,  MAGGIE." 

With  a  confused  mingling  of  shame,  an 
ger,  and  sudden  fear  he  ran  out  on  the  gal 
lery.  The  tide  was  well  up,  half  the  Marsh 
had  already  vanished,  and  the  little  creek 
where  he  had  moored  his  skiff  was  now  an 
empty  shining  river.  The  water  was  every 
where  —  fringing  the  tussocks  of  salt  grass 
with  concentric  curves  of  spume  and  drift, 
or  tumultuously  tossing  its  white-capped 
waves  over  the  spreading  expanse  of  the 
lower  bay.  The  low  thunder  of  breakers  in 
the  farther  estuary  broke  monotonously  on 
the  ear.  But  his  eye  was  fascinated  by  a 
dull  shifting  streak  on  the  horizon,  that, 
even  as  he  gazed,  shuddered,  whitened  along 
its  whole  line,  and  then  grew  ghastly  gray 
again.  It  was  the  ocean  bar. 


IV. 

"WELL,  I  must  say,"  said  Cicely  Pres 
ton,  emphasizing  the  usual  feminine  impera 
tive  for  perfectly  gratuitous  statement,  as 
she  pushed  back  her  chair  from  the  comman- 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     65 

dant's  breakfast  table,  "I  must  really  say 
that  I  don't  see  anything  particularly  heroic 
in  doing  something  wrong,  lying  about  it 
just  to  get  other  folks  into  trouble,  and  then 
rushing  off  to  do  penance  in  a  high  wind  and 
an  open  boat.  But  she  's  pretty,  and  wears 
a  man's  shirt  and  coat,  and  of  course  that 
settles  anything.  But  why  earrings  and  wet 
white  stockings  and  slippers?  And  why 
that  Gothic  arch  of  front  and  a  boy's  hat  ? 
That 's  what  I  simply  ask  ;  "  and  the  young 
est  daughter  of  Colonel  Preston  rose  from 
the  table,  shook  out  the  skirt  of  her  pretty 
morning  dress,  and,  placing  her  little  thumbs 
in  the  belt  of  her  smart  waist,  paused  wither- 
ingly  for  a  reply. 

"  You  are  most  unfair,  my  child,"  re 
turned  Colonel  Preston  gravely.  "  Her 
giving  food  and  clothes  to  a  deserter  may 
have  been  only  an  ordinary  instinct  of  hu 
manity  towards  a  fellow-creature  who  ap 
peared  to  be  suffering,  to  say  nothing  of 
M'Caffrey's  plausible  tongue.  But  her  per 
iling  her  life  to  save  him  from  an  unjust 
accusation,  and  her  desire  to  shield  her 
brother's  pride  from  ridicule,  is  altogether 
praiseworthy  and  extraordinary.  And  the 
moral  influence  of  her  kindness  was  strong 


66       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

enough  to  make  that  scamp  refuse  to  tell  the 
plain  truth  that  might  implicate  her  in  an 
indiscretion,  though  it  saved  him  from  state 
prison." 

"  He  knew  you  would  n't  believe  him  if 
lie  had  said  the  clothes  were  given  to  him," 
retorted  Miss  Cicely,  "  so  I  don't  see  where 
the  moral  influence  comes  in.  As  to  her 
periling  her  life,  those  Marsh  people  are 
amphibious  anyway,  or  would  be  in  those 
clothes.  And  as  to  her  motive,  why,  papa, 
I  heard  you  say  in  this  very  room,  and 
afterwards  to  Mr.  Calvert,  when  you  gave 
him  instructions,  that  you  believed  those 
Culpeppers  were  capable  of  enticing  away 
deserters ;  and  you  forget  the  fuss  you  had 
with  her  savage  brother's  lawyer  about  that 
water  front,  and  how  you  said  it  was  such 
people  who  kept  up  the  irritation  between 
the  Civil  and  Federal  power." 

The  colonel  coughed  hurriedly.  It  is  the 
fai^e  of  all  great  organizers,  military  as  well 
as  civil,  to  occasionally  suffer  defeat  in  the 
family  circle. 

"The  more  reason,"  he  said,  soothingly, 
"why  we  should  correct  harsh  judgments 
that  spring  from  mere  rumors.  You  should 
give  yourself  at  least  the  chance  of  over- 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       67 

coming  your  prejudices,  my  child.  Remem 
ber,  too,  that  she  is  now  the  guest  of  the 
Fort." 

"  And  she  chooses  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Brom 
ley  !  I  'm  sure  it 's  quite  enough  for  you 
and  mamma  to  do  duty  —  and  Emily,  who 
wants  to  know  why  Mr.  Calvert  raves  so 
about  her  —  without  my  going  over  there  to 
stare." 

Colonel  Preston  shook  his  head  reproach 
fully,  but  eventually  retired,  leaving  the 
field  to  the  enemy.  The  enemy,  a  little  pink 
in  the  cheeks,  slightly  tossed  the  delicate 
rings  of  its  blonde  crest,  settled  its  skirts 
again  at  the  piano,  but  after  turning  over 
the  leaves  of  its  music  book,  rose,  and 
walked  pettishly  to  the  window. 

But  here  a  spectacle  presented  itself  that 
for  a  moment  dismissed  all  other  thoughts 
from  the  girl's  rebellious  mind. 

Not  a  dozen  yards  away,  on  the  wind-swept 
parade,  a  handsome  young  fellow,  apparently 
halted  by  the  sentry,  had  impetuously  turned 
upon  him  in  an  attitude  of  indignant  and 
haughty  surprise.  To  the  quick  fancy  of  the 
girl  it  seemed  as  if  some  disguised  rustic  god 
had  been  startled  by  the  challenge  of  a  mor 
tal.  Under  an  oilskin  hat,  like  the  petasus 


68       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

of  Hermes,  pushed  back  from  his  white  fore- 
Lead,  crisp  black  curls  were  knotted  around 
a  head  whose  beardless  face  was  perfect  as 
a  cameo  cutting.  In  the  close-fitting  blue 
woolen  jersey  under  his  open  jacket  the 
clear  outlines  and  youthful  grace  of  his  upper 
figure  were  revealed  as  clearly  as  in  a 
statue.  Long  fishing-boots  reaching  to  his 
thighs  scarcely  concealed  the  symmetry  of 
his  lower  limbs.  Cricket  and  lawn-tennis, 
knickerbockers  and  flannels  had  not  at  that 
period  familiarized  the  female  eye  to  unfet 
tered  masculine  outline,  and  Cicely  Preston, 
accustomed  to  the  artificial  smartness  and 
regularity  of  uniform,  was  perhaps  the  more 
impressed  by  the  stranger's  lawless  grace. 

The  sentry  had  repeated  his  challenge  ;  an 
angry  flush  was  deepening  on  the  intruder's 
cheek.  At  this  critical  moment  Cicely 
threw  open  the  French  windows  and  stepped 
upon  the  veranda. 

The  sentry  saluted  the  familiar  little 
figure  of  his  colonel's  daughter  with  an  ex 
planatory  glance  at  the  stranger.  The  young 
fellow  looked  up  —  and  the  god  became 
human. 

"  I  'm  looking  for  my  sister,"  he  said,  half 
awkwardly,  half  defiantly;  "she's  here, 
somewhere." 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       69 

"  Yes  —  and  perfectly  safe,  Mr.  Culpep- 
per,  I  think,"  said  the  arch-hypocrite  with 
dazzling  sweetness  ;  "  and  we  're  all  so  de 
lighted.  And  so  brave  and  plucky  and 
skillful  in  her  to  come  all  that  way  —  and 
for  such  a  purpose." 

"  Then  —  you  know  —  all  about  it  "  — 
stammered  Jim,  more  relieved  than  he  had 
imagined  —  "  and  that  I "  — 

"  That  you  were  quite  ignorant  of  your 
sister  helping  the  deserter.  Oh  yes,  of 
course,"  said  Cicely,  with  bewildering 
promptitude.  "You  see,  Mr.  Culpepper, 
we  girls  are  so  foolish.  I  dare  say  /  should 
have  done  the  same  thing  in  her  place,  only 
/  should  never  have  had  the  courage  to  do 
what  she  did  afterwards.  You  really  must 
forgive  her.  But  won't  you  come  in  —  do" 
She  stepped  back,  holding  the  window  open 
with  the  half -coaxing  air  of  a  spoiled  child. 
"  This  way  is  quickest.  Do  come."  As  he 
still  hesitated,  glancing  from  her  to  the 
house,  she  added,  with  a  demure  little  laugh, 
"  Oh,  I  forget  —  this  is  Colonel  Preston's 
quarters,  and  I  'm  his  daughter." 

And  this  dainty  little  fairy,  so  natural  in 
manner,  so  tasteful  in  attire,  was  one  of  the 
artificial  over-dressed  creatures  that  his  sister 


70       THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

had  inveighed  against  so  bitterly !  Was 
Maggie  really  to  be  trusted?  This  new 
revelation  coming  so  soon  after  the  episode 
of  the  deserter  staggered  him.  Neverthe 
less  he  hesitated,  looking  up  with  a  certain 
boyish  timidity  into  Cicely's  dangerous 
eyes. 

"  Is  —  is  —  my  sister  there  ?  " 

"  I  'm  expecting  her  with  my  mother 
every  moment,"  responded  this  youthful  but 
ingenious  diplomatist  sweetly;  "  she  might 
l>e  here  now ;  but,"  she  added  with  a  sudden 
heart-broken  flash  of  sympathy,  "  I  know 
how  anxious  you  both  must  be.  Pll  take 
you  to  her  now.  Only  one  moment,  please." 
The  opportunity  of  leading  this  handsome 
savage  as  it  were  in  chains  across  the  parade, 
before  everybody,  her  father,  her  mother, 
her  sister,  and  his  —  was  not  to  be  lost.  She 
darted  into  the  house,  and  reappeared  with 
the  daintiest  imaginable  straw  hat  on  the 
side  of  her  head,  and  demurely  took  her 
place  at  his  side.  "  It 's  only  over  there,  at 
Major  Bromley's,"  she  said,  pointing  to  one 
of  the  vine-clad  cottage  quarters ;  but  you 
are  a  stranger  here,  you  know,  and  might 
get  lost." 

Alas  !  he  was  already  that.     For  keeping 


THE   HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       71 

step  with  those  fairy-like  slippers,  brushing 
awkwardly  against  that  fresh  and  pretty 
skirt,  and  feeling  the  caress  of  the  soft  folds  ; 
looking  down  upon  the  brim  of  that  berib- 
boned  little  hat,  and  more  often  meeting  the 
upturned  blue  eyes  beneath  it,  Jim  was  sud 
denly  struck  with  a  terrible  conviction  of  his 
own  contrasting  coarseness  and  deficiencies. 
How  hideous  those  oiled  canvas  fishing- 
trousers  and  pilot  jacket  looked  beside  this 
perfectly  fitted  and  delicately  gowned  girl ! 
He  loathed  his  collar,  his  jersey,  his  turned- 
back  sou'wester,  even  his  height,  which 
seemed  to  hulk  beside  her  —  everything,  in 
short,  that  the  girl  had  recently  admired. 
By  the  time  that  they  had  reached  Major 
Bromley's  door  he  had  so  far  succumbed  to 
the  fair  enchantress  and  realized  her  ambi 
tion  of  a  triumphant  procession,  that  when 
she  ushered  him  into  the  presence  of  half  a 
dozen  ladies  and  gentlemen  he  scarcely  re 
cognized  his  sister  as  the  centre  of  attraction, 
or  knew  that  Miss  Cicely's  effusive  greeting 
of  Maggie  was  her  first  one.  "  I  knew  he 
was  dying  to  see  you  after  all  you  had  both 
passed  through,  and  I  brought  him  straight 
here,"  said  the  diminutive  Machiavelli,  meet 
ing  the  astonished  gaze  of  her  father  and  the 


72       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

curious  eyes  of  her  sister  with  perfect  calm 
ness,  while  Maggie,  full  of  gratitude  and  ad 
miration  of  her  handsome  brother,  forgot  his 
momentary  obliviousuess,  and  returned  her 
greeting  warmly.  Nevertheless,  there  was  a 
slight  movement  of  reserve  among  the  gen 
tlemen  at  the  unlooked-for  irruption  of  this 
sunburnt  Adonis,  until  Calvert,  disengaging 
himself  from  Maggie's  side,  came  forward 
with  his  usual  frank  imperturbability  and 
quiet  tact,  and  claimed  Jim  as  his  friend 
and  honored  guest. 

It  then  came  out  with  that  unostentatious 
simplicity  which  characterized  the  brother 
and  sister,  and  was  their  secure  claim  to  per 
fect  equality  with  their  entertainers,  that 
Jim,  on  discovering  his  sister's  absence,  and 
fearing  that  she  might  be  carried  by  the  cur 
rent  towards  the  bar,  had  actually  swum  the 
estuary  to  Indian  Island,  and  in  an  ordinary 
Indian  canoe  had  braved  the  same  tempes 
tuous  passage  she  had  taken  a  few  hours 
before.  Cicely,  listening  to  this  recital  with 
rapt  attention,  nevertheless  managed  to  con 
vey  the  impression  of  having  fully  expected 
it  from  the  first.  "  Of  course  he  'd  have 
come  here  ;  if  she  'd  only  waited,"  she  said, 
sotto  voce,  to  her  sister  Emily. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  D  ED  LOW  MARSH.  73 

"He's  certainly  the  handsomer  of  the 
two,"  responded  that  young-  lady. 

"  Of  course,"  returned  Cicely,  with  a 
superior  air,  "  don't  you  see  she  copies  him." 

Not  that  this  private  criticism  prevented 
either  from  vying  with  the  younger  officers 
in  their  attentions  to  Maggie,  with  perhaps 
the  addition  of  an  open  eulogy  of  her  hand 
some  brother,  more  or  less  invidious  in  com 
parison  to  the  officers.  "  I  suppose  it 's  an 
active  out-of-door  life  gives  him  that  perfect 
grace  and  freedom,"  said  Emily,  with  a 
slight  sneer  at  the  smartly  belted  Calvert. 
"  Yes ;  and  he  don't  drink  or  keep  late 
hours,"  responded  Cicely  significantly. 
"His  sister  says  they  always  retire  before 
ten  o'clock,  and  that  although  his  father  left 
him  some  valuable  whiskey  he  seldom  takes 
a  drop  of  it."  "  Therein,"  gravely  concluded 
Captain  Kirby,  "lies  our  salvation.  If, 
after  such  a  confession,  Calvert  does  n't  make 
the  most  of  his  acquaintance  with  young 
Culpepper  to  remove  that  whiskey  from  his 
path -and  bring  it  here,  he  's  not  the  man  I 
take  him  for." 

Indeed,  for  the  moment  it  seemed  as  if  he 
was  not.  During  the  next  three  or  four 
days,  in  which  Colonel  Preston  had  insisted 


74      THE  HERITAGE   OF   DEDLOW  MARSH. 

upon  detaining*  his  guests,  Calvert  touched 
no  liquor,  evaded  the  evening  poker  parties 
at  quarters,  and  even  prevailed  upon  some 
of  his  brother  officers  to  give  them  up  for 
the  more  general  entertainment  of  the  ladies. 
Colonel  Preston  was  politician  enough  to 
avail  himself  of  the  popularity  of  Maggie's 
adventure  to  invite  some  of  the  Logport  peo 
ple  to  assist  him  in  honoring  their  neighbor. 
Not  only  was  the  old  feud  between  the  Fort 
and  the  people  thus  bridged  over,  but  there 
was  no  doubt  that  the  discipline  of  the  Fort 
had  been  strengthened  by  Maggie's  extrava 
gant  reputation  as  a  mediator  among  the 
disaffected  rank  and  file.  Whatever  char 
acteristic  license  the  grateful  Dennis  M'Caf- 
frey  —  let  off  with  a  nominal  punishment  — 
may  have  taken  in  his  praise  of  the  "  Quane 
of  the  Marshes,"  it  is  certain  that  the  men 
worshiped  her,  and  that  the  band  patheti 
cally  begged  permission  to  serenade  her  the 
last  night  of  her  stay. 

At  the  end  of  that  time,  with  a  dozen 
invitations,  a  dozen  appointments,  a  dozen 
vows  of  eternal  friendship,  much  hand-shak 
ing,  and  accompanied  by  a  number  of  the  offi 
cers  to  their  boat,  Maggie  and  Jim  departed. 
They  talked  but  little  on  their  way  home ; 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     75 

by  some  tacit  understanding  they  did  not 
discuss  those  projects,  only  recalling  certain 
scenes  and  incidents  of  their  visit.  By  the 
time  they  had  reached  the  little  creek  the  si 
lence  and  nervous  apathy  which  usually  fol 
low  excitement  in  the  young  seemed  to  have 
fallen  upon  them.  It  was  not  until  after 
their  quiet  frugal  supper  that,  seated  beside 
the  fire,  Jim  looked  up  somewhat  self-con 
sciously  in  his  sister's  grave  and  thoughtful 
face. 

"  Say,  Mag,  what  was  that  idea  o'  yours 
about  selling  some  land,  and  taking  a  house 
at  Logport  ?  " 

Maggie  looked  up,  and  said  passively, 
"Oh,  ^idea?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,"  said  Jim  somewhat  awkwardly, 
"  it  could  be  done,  you  know.  I'm  willin'." 

As  she  did  not  immediately  reply,  he  con 
tinued  uneasily,  "  Miss  Preston  says  we  kin 
get  a  nice  little  house  that  is  near  the  Fort, 
until  we  want  to  build." 

"  Oh,  then  you  have  talked  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  that  is  —  why,  what  are  ye  thinkin' 
of,  Mag  ?  Was  n't  it  your  idea  all  along  ?  " 
he  said,  suddenly  facing  her  with  querulous 


76  THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

embarrassment.  They  had  been  sitting  in 
their  usual  evening  attitudes  of  Assyrian 
frieze  profile,  with  even  more  than  the  usual 
Assyrian  frieze  similarity  of  feature. 

"  Yes ;  but,  Jim  dear,  do  you  think  it  the 
best  thing  for  —  for  us  to  do  ?  "  said  Maggie, 
with  half-frightened  gravity. 

At  this  sudden  and  startling  exhibition  of 
female  inconsistency  and  inconsequence,  Jim 
was  for  a  moment  speechless.  Then  he  re 
covered  himself,  volubly,  aggrievedly,  and 
on  his  legs.  What  did  she  mean  ?  Was  he 
to  give  up  understanding  girls  —  or  was  it 
their  sole  vocation  in  life  to  impede  mascu 
line  processes  and  shipwreck  masculine  con 
clusions?  Here,  after  all  she  said  the  other 
night,  after  they  had  nearly  "  quo'lled  "  over 
her  "  set  idees,"  after  she  'd  "  gone  over  all 
that  foolishness  about  Jael  and  Sisera  —  and 
there  was  n't  any  use  for  it  —  after  she  'd  let 
him  run  on  to  them  officers  all  he  was  goin' 
to  do  —  nay,  after  she  herself,  for  he  had 
heard  her,  had  talked  to  Calvert  about  it, 
she  wanted  to  know  now  if  it  was  best."  He 
looked  at  the  floor  and  the  ceiling,  as  if  ex 
pecting  the  tongued  and  grooved  planks  to 
cry  out  at  this  crowning  enormity. 

The  cause  of  it  had  resumed  her  sad  gaze 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     77 

at  the  fire.  Presently,  without  turning  her 
head,  she  reached  up  her  long,  graceful  arm, 
and  clasping  her  brother's  neck,  brought  his 
face  down  in  profile  with  her  .  own,  cheek 
against  cheek,  until  they  looked  like  the 
double  outlines  of  a  medallion.  Then  she 
said  —  to  the  fire  : 

"Jim,  do  you  think  she  's  pretty?  " 

"Who?"  said  Jim,  albeit  his  color  had 
already  answered  the  question. 

"  You  know  who.     Do  you  like  her  ?  " 

Jim  here  vaguely  murmured  to  the  fire 
that  he  thought  her  "  kinder  nice,"  and  that 
she  dressed  mighty  purty.  "  Ye  know,  Mag," 
he  said  with  patronizing  effusion,  "you 
oughter  get  some  gownds  like  hers." 

"  That  would  n't  make  me  like  her,"  said 
Maggie  gravely. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Jim  po 
litely,  but  with  an  appalling  hopelessness  of 
tone.  After  a  pause  he  added  slyly,  "  'Pears 
to  me  somebody  else  thought  somebody  else 
mighty  purty  —  eh  ?  " 

To  his  discomfiture  she  did  not  solicit  fur 
ther  information.  After  a  pause  he  contin 
ued,  still  more  arphly : 

"  Do  you  like  him,  Mag  ?  " 

"  I  think  he 's  a  perfect  gentleman,"  she 
said  calmly. 


78  THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLO  W  MARSH. 

He  turned  his  eyes  quickly  from  the  glow 
ing  fire  to  her  face.  The  cheek  that  had 
been  resting  against  his  own  was  as  cool  as 
the  night  wind  that  came  through  the  open 
door,  and  the  whole  face  was  as  fixed  and 
tranquil  as  the  upper  stars. 


V. 

FOR  a  year  the  tide  had  ebbed  and  flowed 
on  the  Dedlow  Marsh  unheeded  before  the 
sealed  and  sightless  windows  of  the  "  King 
fisher's  Nest."  Since  the  young  birds  had 
flown  to  Logport,  even  the  Indian  caretakers 
had  abandoned  the  piled  dwelling  for  their 
old  nomadic  haunts  in  the  "  bresh."  The 
high  spring  tide  had  again  made  its  annual 
visit  to  the  little  cemetery  of  drift-wood,  and, 
as  if  recognizing  another  wreck  in  the  de 
serted  home,  had  hung  a  few  memorial  offer 
ings  on  the  blackened  piles,  softly  laid  a  gar 
land  of  grayish  drift  before  it,  and  then 
sobbed  itself  out  in  the  salt  grass. 

From  time  to  time  the  faint  echoes  of  the 
Culpeppers'  life  at  Logport  reached  the  up 
land,  and  the  few  neighbors  who  had  only 
known  them  by  hearsay  shook  their  heads 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       79 

over  the  extravagance  they  as  yet  only  knew 
by  report.  But  it  was  in  the  dead  ebb  of 
the  tide  and  the  waning  daylight  that  the 
feathered  tenants  of  the  Marsh  seemed  to 
voice  dismal  prophecies  of  the  ruin  of  their 
old  master  and  mistress,  and  to  give  them 
selves  up  to  gloomiest  lamentation  and  quer 
ulous  foreboding.  Whether  the  traditional 
"  bird  of  the  air  "  had  entrusted  his  secret 
to  a  few  ornithological  friends,  or  whether 
from  a  natural  disposition  to  take  gloomy 
views  of  life,  it  was  certain  that  at  this  hour 
the  vocal  expression  of  the  Marsh  was  hope 
less  and  despairing.  It  was  then  that  a  de 
jected  plover,  addressing  a  mocking  crew  of 
sandpipers  on  a  floating  log,  seemed  to  be 
wail  the  fortune  that  was  being  swallowed 
up  by  the  riotous  living  and  gambling  debts 
of  Jim.  It  was  then  that  the  querulous  crane 
rose,  and  testily  protested  against  the  selling 
of  his  favorite  haunt  in  the  sandy  peninsula, 
which  only  six  months  of  Jim's  excesses  had 
made  imperative.  It  was  then  that  a  mourn 
ful  curlew,  who,  with  the  preface  that  he  had 
always  been  really  expecting  it,  reiterated 
the  story  that  Jim  had  been  seen  more  than 
once  staggering  home  with  nervous  hands 
and  sodden  features  from  a  debauch  with  the 


80   THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

younger  officers  ;  it  was  the  same  despond 
ing  fowl  who  knew  that  Maggie's  eyes  had 
more  than  once  filled  with  tears  at  Jim's 
failings,  and  had  already  grown  more  hollow 
with  many  watch  ings.  It  was  a  flock  of 
wrangling  teal  that  screamingly  discussed 
the  small  scandals,  jealous  heart-burnings, 
and  curious  backbitings  that  had  attended 
Maggie's  advent  into  society.  It  was  the 
high-flying  brent  who,  knowing  how  the  sen 
sitive  girl,  made  keenly  conscious  at  every 
turn  of  her  defective  training  and  ingenuous 
ignorance,  had  often  watched  their  evening 
flight  with  longing  gaze,  now  "  honked " 
dismally  at  the  recollection.  It  was  at  this 
hour  and  season  that  the  usual  vague  lament- 
ings  of  Dedlow  Marsh  seemed  to  find  at  last 
a  preordained  expression.  And  it  was  at 
such  a  time,  when  light  and  water  were  both 
fading,  and  the  blackness  of  the  Marsh  was 
once  more  reasserting  itself,  that  a  small 
boat  was  creeping  along  one  of  the  tortuous 
inlets,  at  times  half  hiding  behind  the  bank 
like  a  wounded  bird.  As  it  slowly  pene 
trated  inland  it  seemed  to  be  impelled  by  its 
solitary  occupant  in  a  hesitating  uncertain 
way,  as  if  to  escape  observation  rather  than 
as  if  directed  to  any  positive  bourn.  Stop- 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.   81 

ping  beside  a  bank  of  reeds  at  last,  the 
figure  rose  stoopingly,  and  drew  a  gun  from 
between  its  feet  and  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
As  the  light  fell  upon  its  face,  it  could  be 
seen  that  it  was  James  Culpepper !  James 
Culpepper !  hardly  recognizable  in  the  swol 
len  features,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  tremulous 
hands  of  that  ruined  figure  !  James  Culpep 
per,  only  retaining  a  single  trace  of  his  for 
mer  self  in  his  look  of  set  and  passionate 
purpose  !  And  that  purpose  was  to  kill  him 
self  —  to  be  found  dead,  as  his  father  had 
been  before  him  —  in  an  open  boat,  adrift 
upon  the  Marsh ! 

It  was  not  the  outcome  of  a  sudden  fancy. 
The  idea  had  first  come  to  him  in  a  taunting 
allusion  from  the  drunken  lips  of  one  of  his 
ruder  companions,  for  which  he  had  stricken 
the  offender  to  the  earth.  It  had  since 
haunted  his  waking  hours  of  remorse  and 
hopeless  fatuity ;  it  had  seemed  to  be  the 
one  relief  and  atonement  he  could  make  his 
devoted  sister ;  and,  more  fatuous  than  all, 
it  seemed  to  the  miserable  boy  the  one  re 
venge  he  would  take  upon  the  faithless  co 
quette,  who  for  a  year  had  played  with  his 
simplicity,  and  had  helped  to  drive  him  to 
the  distraction  of  cards  and  drink.  Only 


82       THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

that  morning  Colonel  Preston  had  forbidden 
him  the  house ;  and  now  it  seemed  to  him 
the  end  had  come.  He  raised  his  distorted 
face  above  the  reedy  bank  for  a  last  tremu 
lous  and  half-frightened  glance  at  the  land 
scape  he  was  leaving  forever.  A  glint  in  the 
western  sky  lit  up  the  front  of  his  deserted 
dwelling  in  the  distance,  abreast  of  which 
the  windings  of  the  inlet  had  unwittingly 
led  him.  As  he  looked  he  started,  and  in 
voluntarily  dropped  into  a  crouching  atti 
tude.  For,  to  his  superstitious  terror,  the 
sealed  windows  of  his  old  home  were  open, 
the  bright  panes  were  glittering  with  the 
fading  light,  and  on  the  outer  gallery  the 
familiar  figure  of  his  sister  stood,  as  of  old, 
awaiting  his  return  !  Was  he  really  going 
mad,  or  had  this  last  vision  of  his  former 
youth  been  purposely  vouchsafed  him  ? 

But,  even  as  he  gazed,  the  appearance  of 
another  figure  in  the  landscape  beyond  the 
house  proved  the  reality  of  his  vision,  and  as 
suddenly  distracted  him  from  all  else.  For 
it  was  the  apparition  of  a  man  on  horseback 
approaching  the  house  from  the  upland ; 
and  even  at  that  distance  he  recognized 
its  well-known  outlines.  It  was  Calvert ! 
Calvert  the  traitor !  Calvert,  the  man  whom 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.       83 

he  had  long  suspected  as  being  the  secret 
lover  and  destined  husband  of  Cicely  Pres 
ton!  Calvert,  who  had  deceived  him  with 
his  calm  equanimity  and  his  affected  prefer 
ence  for  Maggie,  to  conceal  his  deliberate 
understanding  with  Cicely.  What  was  he 
doing  here  ?  Was  he  a  double  traitor,  and 
now  trying  to  deceive  her  —  as  he  had  him  ? 
And  Maggie  here  !  This  sudden  return  — 
this  preconcerted  meeting.  It  was  infamy  ! 

For  a  moment  he  remained  stupefied,  and 
then,  with  a  mechanical  instinct,  plunged  his 
head  and  face  in  the  lazy-flowing  water,  and 
then  once  again  rose  cool  and  collected.  The 
half-mad  distraction  of  his  previous  resolve 
had  given  way  to  another,  more  deliberate, 
but  not  less  desperate  determination.  He 
knew  now  why  he  came  there  —  why  he  had 
brought  his  gun  —  why  his  boat  had  stopped 
when  it  did  ! 

Lying  flat  in  the  bottom,  he  tore  away 
fragments  of  the  crumbling  bank  to  fill  his 
frail  craft,  until  he  had  sunk  it  to  the  gun 
wale,  and  below  the  low  level  of  the  Marsh. 
Then,  using  his  hands  as  noiseless  paddles, 
he  propelled  this  rude  imitation  of  a  float 
ing  log  slowly  past  the  line  of  vision,  until 
the  tongue  of  bushes  had  hidden  him  from 


84       THE   HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

view.  With  a  rapid  glance  at  the  darkening 
flat,  he  then  seized  his  gun,  and  springing 
to  the  spongy  bank,  half  crouching  half 
crawling  through  reeds  and  tussocks,  he 
made  his  way  to  the  brush.  A  foot  and  eye 
less  experienced  would  have  plunged  its 
owner  helpless  in  the  black  quagmire.  At 
one  edge  of  the  thicket  he  heard  hoofs  tram 
pling  the  dried  twigs.  Calvert's  horse  was 
already  there,  tied  to  a  skirting  alder. 

He  ran  to  the  house,  but,  instead  of  at 
tracting  attention  by  ascending  the  creaking 
steps,  made  his  way  to  the  piles  below  the 
rear  gallery  and  climbed  to  it  noiselessly. 
It  was  the  spot  where  the  deserter  had  as 
cended  a  year  ago,  and,  like  him,  he  could 
see  and  hear  all  that  passed  distinctly.  Cal- 
vert  stood  near  the  open  door  as  if  depart 
ing.  Maggie  stood  between  him  and  the 
window,  her  face  in  shadow,  her  hands 
clasped  tightly  behind  her.  A  profound 
sadness,  partly  of  the  dying  day  and  waning 
light,  and  partly  of  some  vague  expiration 
of  their  own  sorrow,  seemed  to  encompass 
them.  Without  knowing  why,  a  strange 
trembling  took  the  place  of  James  Culpep- 
per's  fierce  determination,  and  a  film  of 
moisture  stole  across  his  staring  eyes. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.  85 

"  When  I  tell  you  that  I  believe  all  this 
will  pass,  and  that  you  will  still  win  your 
brother  back  to  you,"  said  Calvert's  sad  but 
clear  voice,  "  I  will  tell  you  why  —  although, 
perhaps,  it  is  only  a  part  of  that  confidence 
you  command  me  to  withhold.  When  I  first 
saw  you,  I  myself  had  fallen  into  like  dis 
solute  habits  ;  less  excusable  than  he,  for  I 
had  some  experience  of  the  world  and  its 
follies.  When  I  met  you,  and  fell  under 
the  influence  of  your  pure,  simple,  and 
healthy  life  ;  when  I  saw  that  isolation,  mo 
notony,  misunderstanding,  even  the  sense  of 
superiority  to  one's  surroundings  could  be 
lived  down  and  triumphed  over,  without  vul 
gar  distractions  or  pitiful  ambitions  ;  when 
I  learned  to  love  you  —  hear  me  out,  Miss 
Culpepper,  I  beg  you  —  you  saved  me  —  I, 
who  was  nothing  to  you,  even  as  I  honestly 
believe  you  will  still  save  your  brother,  whom 
you  love." 

"  How  do  you  know  I  did  n't  ruin  him  ?  " 
she  said,  turning  upon  him  bitterly.  "  How 
do  you  know  that  it  was  n't  to  get  rid  of  our 
monotony,  our  solitude  that  I  drove  him  to 
this  vulgar  distraction,  this  pitiful  —  yes, 
you  were  right  —  pitiful  ambition  ?  " 

"  Because  it  is  n't  your  real  nature,"  he 
said  quietly. 


86      THE   HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  My  real  nature,"  she  repeated  with  a  half 
savage  vehemence  that  seemed  to  be  goaded 
from  her  by  his  very  gentleness,  "my  real 
nature  !  What  did  he  —  what  do  you  know 
of  it  ?  —  My  real  nature  !  —  I  '11  tell  you 
what  it  was,"  she  went  on  passionately.  "  It 
was  to  be  revenged  on  you  all  for  your  cru 
elty,  your  heartlessness,  your  wickedness  to 
me  and  mine  in  the  past.  It  was  to  pay  you 
off  for  your  slanders  of  my  dead  father  — 
for  the  selfishness  that  left  me  and  Jim  alone 
with  his  dead  body  on  the  Marsh.  That 
was  what  sent  me  to  Logport  —  to  get  even 
with  you  —  to  —  to  fool  and  flaunt  you  ! 
There,  you  have  it  now !  And  now  that  God 
has  punished  me  for  it  by  crushing  my 
brother  —  you  —  you  expect  me  to  let  you 
crush  me  too." 

"  But,"  he  said  eagerly,  advancing  toward 
her,  "  you  are  wronging  me  —  you  are  wrong 
ing  yourself,  cruelly." 

"  Stop,"  she  said,  stepping  back,  with  her 
hands  still  locked  behind  her.  "  Stay  where 
you  are.  There  !  That 's  enough  !  "  She 
drew  herself  up  and  let  her  hands  fall  at  her 
side.  "  Now,  let  us  speak  of  Jim,"  she  said 
coldly. 

Without  seeming  to  hear  her,  he  regarded 
her  for  the  first  time  with  hopeless  sadness. 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     87 

"  Why  did  you  let  my  brother  believe  you 
were  his  rival  with  Cicely  Preston  ?  "  she 
asked  impatiently. 

"  Because  I  could  not  undeceive  him  with 
out  telling  him  I  hopelessly  loved  his  sister. 
You  are  proud,  Miss  Culpepper,"  he  said, 
with  the  first  tinge  of  bitterness  in  his  even 
voice.  "  Can  you  not  understand  that  others 
may  be  proud  too  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said  bluntly  ;  "  it  is  not  pride 
but  weakness.  You  could  have  told  him 
what  you  knew  to  be  true  :  that  there  could 
be  nothing  in  common  between  her  folk  and 
such  savages  as  we  ;  that  there  was  a  gulf 
as  wide  as  that  Marsh  and  as  black  between 
our  natures,  our  training  and  theirs,  and 
even  if  they  came  to  us  across  it,  now  and 
then,  to  suit  their  pleasure,  light  and  easy 
as  that  tide  —  it  was  still  there  to  some 
day  ground  and  swamp  them !  And  if  he 
doubted  it,  you  had  only  to  tell  him  your 
own  story.  You  had  only  to  tell  him  what 
you  have  just  told  me  —  that  you  yourself, 
an  officer  and  a  gentleman,  thought  you 
loved  me,  a  vulgar,  uneducated,  savage  girl, 
and  that  I,  kinder  to  you  than  you  to  me 
or  him,  made  you  take  it  back  across  that 
tide,  because  I  could  n't  let  you  link  your 
life  with  me,  and  drag  you  in  the  mire." 


88      THE  HERITAGE    OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

"  You  need  not  have  said  that,  Miss  Cul- 
pepper,"  returned  Calvert  with  the  same  gen 
tle  smile,  "  to  prove  that  I  am  your  inferior 
in  all  but  one  thing." 

"  And  that  ?  "  she  said  quickly. 

"Is  my  love." 

His  gentle  face  was  as  set  now  as  her  own 
as  he  moved  back  slowly  towards  the  door. 
There  he  paused. 

"  You  tell  me  to  speak  of  Jim,  and  Jim 
only.  Then  hear  me.  I  believe  that  Miss 
Preston  cares  for  him  as  far  as  lies  in  her 
young  and  giddy  nature.  I  could  not,  there 
fore,  have  crushed  his  hope  without  deceiv 
ing  him,  for  there  are  as  cruel  deceits 
prompted  by  what  we  call  reason  as  by  our 
love.  If  you  think  that  a  knowledge  of  this 
plain  truth  would  help  to  save  him,  I  beg 
you  to  be  kinder  to  him  than  you  have  been 
to  me,  —  or  even,  let  me  dare  to  hope,  to 
yourself" 

He  slowly  crossed  the  threshold,  still  hold 
ing  his  cap  lightly  in  his  hand. 

"  When  I  tell  you  that  I  am  going  away 
to-morrow  on  a  leave  of  absence,  and  that  in 
all  probability  we  may  not  meet  again,  you 
will  not  misunderstand  why  I  add  my  prayer 
to  the  message  your  friends  in  Logport 


THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH.     89 

charged  me  with.  They  beg  that  you  will 
give  up  your  idea  of  returning  here,  and 
come  back  to  them.  Believe  me,  you  have 
made  yourself  loved  and  respected  there,  iu 
spite  —  I  beg  pardon  —  perhaps  I  should 
say  because  of  your  pride.  Good-night  and 
good-bye." 

For  a  single  instant  she  turned  her  set 
face  to  the  window  with  a  sudden  convulsive 
movement,  as  if  she  would  have  called  him 
back,  but  at  the  same  moment  the  opposite 
door  creaked  and  her  brother  slipped  into 
the  room.  Whether  a  quick  memory  of  the 
deserter's  entrance  at  that  door  a  year  ago 
had  crossed  her  mind,  whether  there  was 
some  strange  suggestion  in  his  mud-stained 
garments  and  weak  deprecating  smile,  or 
whether  it  was  the  outcome  of  some  desper 
ate  struggle  within  her,  there  was  that  in  her 
face  that  changed  his  smile  into  a  frightened 
cry  for  pardon,  as  he  ran  and  fell  on  his 
knees  at  her  feet.  But  even  as  he  did  so 
her  stern  look  vanished,  and  with  her  arm 
around  him  she  bent  over  him  and  mingled 
her  tears  withjiis. 

" 1  heard  it  all,  Mag  dearest !  All !  For 
give  me  !  I  have  been  crazy  !  —  wild  !  —  I 
will  reform !  —  I  will  be  better  !  I  will 


90      THE  HERITAGE   OF  DEDLOW  MARSH. 

never  disgrace  you  again,  Mag!  Never, 
never !  I  swear  it !  " 

She  reached  down  and  kissed  him.  After 
a  pause,  a  weak  boyish  smile  struggled  into 
his  face. 

"  You  heard  what  he  said  of  her,  Mag.  Do 
you  think  it  might  be  true  ?  " 

She  lifted  the  damp  curls  from  his  fore 
head  with  a  sad  half-inaternal  smile,  but  did 
not  reply. 

"  And  Mag,  dear,  don't  you  think  you 
were  a  little  —  just  a  little  —  hard  on  him  ? 
No  !  Don't  look  at  me  that  way,  for  God's 
sake  !  There,  I  did  n't  mean  anything.  Of 
course  you  knew  best.  There,  Maggie  dear, 
look  up.  Hark  there !  Listen,  Mag,  do !  " 

They  lifted  their  eyes  to  the  dim  distance 
seen  through  the  open  door.  Borne  on  the 
fading  light,  and  seeming  to  fall  and  die 
with  it  over  inarsh  and  river,  came  the  last 
notes  of  the  bugle  from  the  Fort. 

"  There !  Don't  you  remember  what  you 
used  to  say,  Mag  ?  " 

The  look  that  had  frightened  him  had 
quite  left  her  face  now. 

"  Yes,"  she  smiled,  laying  her  cold  cheek 
beside  his  softly.  "  Oh  yes  !  It  was  some 
thing  that  came  and  went,  'Like  a  song'  — 
*  Like  a  song.'  " 


A  KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT 
HILLS. 


I. 

As  Father  Felipe  slowly  toiled  up  the 
dusty  road  towards  the  Rancho  of  the  Blessed 
Innocents,  he  more  than  once  stopped  under 
the  shadow  of  a  sycamore  to  rest  his  some 
what  lazy  mule  and  to  compose  his  own  per 
plexed  thoughts  by  a  few  snatches  from  his 
breviary.  For  the  good  padre  had  some 
reason  to  be  troubled.  The  invasion  of  Gen 
tile  Americans  that  followed  the  gold  dis 
covery  of  three  years  before  had  not  confined 
itself  to  the  plains  of  the  Sacramento,  but 
stragglers  had  already  found  their  way  to 
the  Santa  Cruz  Valley,  and  the  seclusion  of 
even  the  mission  itself  was  threatened.  It 
was  true  that  they  had  not  brought  their 
heathen  engines  to  disembowel  the  earth  in 

O 

search  of  gold,  but  it  was  rumored  that  they 
had  already  speculated  upon  the  agricultural 
productiveness  of  the  land,  and  had  espied 


92        KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"  the  fatness  thereof."  As  he  reached  the 
higher  plateau  he  could  see  the  afternoon 
sea-fog  —  presently  to  obliterate  the  fair 
prospect  —  already  pulling  through  the  gaps 
in  the  Coast  Range,  and  on  a  nearer  slope  — • 
no  less  ominously  —  the  smoke  of  a  recent 
but  more  permanently  destructive  Yankee 
saw-mill  was  slowly  drifting  towards  the 
valley. 

"  Get  up,  beast !  "  said  the  father,  digging 
his  heels  into  the  comfortable  flanks  of  his 
mule  with  some  human  impatience,  "  or  art 
thou,  too,  a  lazy  renegade  ?  Thinkest  thou, 
besotted  one,  that  the  heretic  will  spare  thee 
more  work  than  the  Holy  Church." 

The  mule,  thus  apostrophized  in  ear  and 
flesh,  shook  its  head  obstinately  as  if  the 
question  was  by  no  means  clear  to  its  mind, 
but  nevertheless  started  into  a  little  trot, 
which  presently  brought  it  to  the  low  adobe 
wall  of  the  courtyard  of  "  The  Innocents," 
and  entered  the  gate.  A  few  lounging  peons 
in  the  shadow  of  an  archway  took  off  their 
broad-brimmed  hats  and  made  way  for  the 
padre,  and  a  half  dozen  equally  listless 
vaqueros  helped  him  to  alight.  Accustomed 
as  he  was  to  the  indolence  and  superfluity 
of  his  host's  retainers,  to-day  it  nevertheless 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.       93 

seemed  to  strike  some  note  of  irritation  in 
his  breast. 

A  stout,  middle-aged  woman  of  ungirt 
waist  and  beshawled  head  and  shoulders  ap 
peared  at  the  gateway  as  if  awaiting  him. 
After  a  formal  salutation  she  drew  him  aside 
into  an  inner  passage. 

"  He  is  away  again,  your  Eeverence,"  she 
said. 

"  Ah  —  always  the  same  ?  " 

"  Yes,  your  Reverence  —  and  this  time  to 
4  a  meeting  '  of  the  heretics  at  their  pueblo^ 
at  Jonesville  —  where  they  will  ask  him  of 
his  land  for  a  road." 

"  At  a  meeting  ?  "  echoed  the  priest  un 
easily. 

"  Ah  yes !  a  meeting  —  where  Tiburcio 
says  they  shout  and  spit  on  the  ground,  your 
Reverence,  and  only  one  has  a  chair  and  him 
they  call  a  '  chairman '  because  of  it,  and 
yet  he  sits  not  but  shouts  and  spits  even  as 
the  others  and  keeps  up  a  tapping  with  a 
hammer  like  a  very  pico.  And  there  it  is 
they  are  ever  4  resolving  '  that  which  is  not, 
and  consider  it  even  as  done." 

"  Then  he  is  still  the  same,"  said  the 
priest  gloomily,  as  the  woman  paused  for 
breath. 


94       KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"Only  more  so,  your  Keverence,  for  he 
reads  nought  but  the  newspaper  of  the 
Americanos  that  is  brought  in  the  ship,  the 
4  New  York  'errald  '  —  and  recites  to  him 
self  the  orations  of  their  legislators.  Ah ! 
it  was  an  evil  day  when  the  shipwrecked 
American  sailor  taught  him  his  uncouth 
tongue,  which,  as  your  Reverence  knows,  is 
only  fit  for  beasts  and  heathen  incantation." 

"  Pray  Heaven  that  were  all  he  learned 
of  him,"  said  the  priest  hastily,  "  for  I  have 
great  fear  that  this  sailor  was  little  better 
than  an  atheist  and  an  emissary  from  Satan. 
But  where  are  these  newspapers  and  the 
fantasies  of  publicita  that  fill  his  mind  ?  I 
would  see  them,  my  daughter." 

"You  shall,  your  Reverence,  and  more 
too,"  she  replied  eagerly,  leading  the  way 
along  the  passage  to  a  grated  door  which 
opened  upon  a  small  cell-like  apartment, 
whose  scant  light  and  less  air  came  through 
the  deeply  embayed  windows  in  the  outer 
wall.  "  Here  is  his  estudio." 

In  spite  of  this  open  invitation,  the  padre 
entered  with  that  air  of  furtive  and  minute 
inspection  common  to  his  order.  His  glance 
fell  upon  a  rude  surveyor's  plan  of  the  adja 
cent  embryo  town  of  Jonesville  hanging  on 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE   FOOT-HILLS.       95 

the  wall,  which  he  contemplated  with  a  cold 
disfavor  that  even  included  the  highly  col 
ored  vignette  of  the  projected  Jones ville 
Hotel  in  the  left-hand  corner.  He  then 
passed  to  a  supervisor's  notice  hanging  near 
it,  which  he  examined  with  a  suspicion 
heightened  by  that  uneasiness  common  to 
mere  worldly  humanity  when  opposed  to  an 
unknown  and  unfamiliar  language.  But  an 
exclamation  broke  from  his  lips  when  he  con 
fronted  an  election  placard  immediately  be 
low  it.  It  was  printed  in  Spanish  and  Eng 
lish,  and  Father  Felipe  had  no  difficulty  in 
reading  the  announcement  that  "  Don  Jose* 
Sepulvida  would  preside  at  a  meeting  of  the 
Board  of  Education  in  Jonesville  as  one  of 
the  trustees." 

"  This  is  madness,"  said  the  padre. 

Observing  that  Dona  Maria  was  at  the 
moment  preoccupied  in  examining  the  pic 
torial  pages  of  an  illustrated  American 
weekly  which  had  hitherto  escaped  his  eyes, 
he  took  it  gently  from  her  hand. 

w  Pardon,  your  Reverence,"  she  said  with 
slightly  acidulous  deprecation,  "  but  thanks 
to  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  your  Reverence's 
teaching,  the  text  is  but  gibberish  to  me  and 
I  did  but  glance  at  the  pictures." 


96       KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"  Much  evil  may  come  in  with  the  eye," 
said  the  priest  sententiously,  "  as  I  will 
presently  show  thee.  We  have  here,"  he 
continued,  pointing  to  an  illustration  of  cer 
tain  college  athletic  sports,  "  a  number  of 
youthful  cavaliers  posturing  and  capering  in 
a  partly  nude  condition  before  a  number  of 
shameless  women,  who  emulate  the  saturna 
lia  of  heathen  Rome  by  waving  their  hand 
kerchiefs.  We  have  here  a  companion  pic 
ture,"  he  said,  indicating  an  illustration  of 
gymnastic  exercises  by  the  students  of  a 
female  academy  at  u  Commencement,"  "  in 
which,  as  thou  seest,  even  the  aged  of  both 
sexes  unblushingly  assist  as  spectators  with 
every  expression  of  immodest  satisfaction." 

"  Have  they  no  bull-fights  or  other  seemly 
recreation  that  they  must  indulge  in  such 
wantonness  ? "  asked  Dona  Maria  indig 
nantly,  gazing,  however,  somewhat  curiously 
at  the  baleful  representations. 

"  Of  all  that,  my  daughter,  has  their  pam 
pered  civilization  long  since  wearied,"  re 
turned  the  good  padre, ""  for  see,  this  is  what 
they  consider  a  moral  and  even  a  religious 
ceremony."  He  turned  to  an  illustration  of 
a  woman's  rights  convention  ;  "  observe  with 
what  rapt  attention  the  audience  of  that 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.       97 

heathen  temple  watch  the  inspired  ravings 
of  that  elderly  priestess  on  the  dais.  It  is 
even  this  kind  of  sacrilegious  performance 
that  I  am  told  thy  nephew  Don  Jose  ex 
pounds  and  defends." 

"  May  the  blessed  saints  preserve  us ; 
where  will  it  lead  to  ?  "  murmured  the  horri 
fied  Dona  Maria. 

"  I  will  show  thee,"  said  Father  Felipe, 
briskly  turning  the  pages  with  the  same 
lofty  ignoring  of  the  text  until  he  came  to  a 
representation  of  a  labor  procession.  "  There 
is  one  of  their  periodic  revolutions  unhappily 
not  unknown  even  in  Mexico.  Thou  per- 
ceivest  those  complacent  artisans  marching 
with  implements  of  their  craft,  accompanied 
by  the  military,  in  the  presence  of  their  own 
stricken  masters.  Here  we  see  only  another 
instance  of  the  instability  of  all  communities 
that  are  not  founded  on  the  principles  of  the 
Holy  Church." 

"And  what  is  to  be  done  with  my 
nephew  ?  " 

The  good  father's  brow  darkened  with  the 
gloomy  religious  zeal  of  two  centuries  ago. 
"  We  must  have  a  council  of  the  family,  the 
alcalde,  and  the  archbishop,  at  o/zce,"  he  said 
ominously.  To  the  mere  heretical  observer 


98       KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

the  conclusion  might  have  seemed  lame  and 
impotent,  but  it  was  as  near  the  Holy  In 
quisition  as  the  year  of  grace  1852  could 
offer. 

A  few  days  after  this  colloquy  the  unsus 
pecting  subject  of  it,  Don  Jos£  Sepulvida, 
was  sitting  alone  in  the  same  apartment. 
The  fading  glow  of  the  western  sky,  through 
the  deep  embrasured  windows,  lit  up  his  rapt 
and  meditative  face.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  apparently  twenty-five,  with  a  colorless 
satin  complexion,  dark  eyes  alternating  be 
tween  melancholy  and  restless  energy,  a  nar 
row  high  forehead,  long  straight  hair,  and  a 
lightly  penciled  moustache.  He  was  said 
to  resemble  the  well-known  portrait  of  the 
Marquis  of  Monterey  in  the  mission  church, 
a  face  that  was  alleged  to  leave  a  deep  and 
lasting  impression  upon  the  observers.  It 
was  undoubtedly  owing  to  this  quality  dur 
ing  a  brief  visit  of  the  famous  viceroy  to  a 
remote  and  married  ancestress  of  Don  Jos£ 
at  Leon  that  the  singular  resemblance  may 
be  attributed. 

A  heavy  and  hesitating  step  along  the  pas 
sage  stopped  before  the  grating.  Looking 
up,  Don  Josd  beheld  to  his  astonishment  the 
slightly  inflamed  face  of  Roberto,  a  vagabond 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.       99 

American  whom  he  had  lately  taken  into  his 
employment. 

Eoberto,  a  polite  translation  of  "  Bob  the 
Backer,"  cleaned  out  at  a  monte-bank  in 
Santa  Cruz,  penniless  and  profligate,  had 
sold  his  mustang  to  Don  Jose  and  recklessly 
thrown  himself  in  with  the  bargain.  Touched 
by  the  rascal's  extravagance,  the  quality  of 
the  mare,  and  observing  that  Bob's  habits 
had  not  yet  affected  his  seat  in  the  saddle, 
but  rather  lent  a  demoniac  vigor  to  his  chase 
of  wild  cattle,  Don  Jose  had  retained  rider 
and  horse  in  his  service  as  vaguero. 

Bucking  Bob,  observing  that  his  employer 
was  alone,  coolly  opened  the  door  without 
ceremony,  shut  it  softly  behind  him,  and 
then  closed  the  wooden  shutter  of  the  gra 
ting.  Don  Jose  surveyed  him  with  mild  sur 
prise  and  dignified  composure.  The  man 
appeared  perfectly  sober,  —  it  was  a  pecul 
iarity  of  his  dissipated  habits  that,  when  not 
actually  raving  with  drink,  he  was  singularly 
shrewd  and  practical. 

"  Look  yer,  Don  Kosay,"  he  began  in  a 
brusque  but  guarded  voice,  "  you  and  me  is 
pards.  When  ye  picked  me  and  the  mare 
up  and  set  us  on  our  legs  again  in  this  yer 
ranch,  I  allowed  I  'd  tie  to  ye  whenever  you 


100    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

was  in  trouble  —  and  wanted  me.  And  I 
reckon  that 's  what 's  the  matter  now.  For 
from  what  I  see  and  hear  on  every  side, 
although  you're  the  boss  of  this  consarn, 
you  're  surrounded  by  a  gang  of  spies  and 
traitors.  Your  comings  and  goings,  your 
ins  and  outs,  is  dogged  and  followed  and 
blown  upon.  The  folks  you  trust  is  playing 
it  on  ye.  It  ain't  for  me  to  say  why  or 
wherefore  —  what 's  their  rights  and  what 's 
yourn  —  but  I  've  come  to  tell  ye  that  if  you 
don't  get  up  and  get  outer  this  ranch  them 

d d    priests    and   your    own    flesh   and 

blood  —  your  aunts  and  your  uncles  and  your 
cousins,  will  have  you  chucked  outer  your 
property,  and  run  into  a  lunatic  asylum." 

"  Me  —  Don  Jose*  Sepulvida  —  a  luna- 
tico !  You  are  yourself  crazy  of  drink, 
friend  Roberto." 

"Yes,"  said  Roberto  grimly,  "but  that 
kind  ain't  illegal,  while  your  makin'  ducks 
and  drakes  of  your  property  and  going  into 
'Merikin  ideas  and  'Merikin  speculations 
they  reckon  is.  And  speakin'  on  the  square, 
it  ain't  natural" 

Don  Jose  sprang  to  his  feet  and  began  to 
pace  up  and  down  his  cell-like  study.  "  Ah, 
I  remember  now,"  he  muttered,  "  I  begin  to 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    101 

comprehend:  Father  Felipe's  homilies  and 
discourses !  My  aunt's  too  affectionate  care ! 
My  cousin's  discreet  consideration!  The 
prompt  attention  of  my  servants !  I  see  it 
all !  And  you,"  he  said,  suddenly  facing 
Roberto,  "  why  come  you  to  tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  Well,  boss,"  said  the  American  dryly, 
"  I  reckoned  to  stand  by  you." 

"Ah,"  said  Don  Jose,  visibly  affected. 
"  Good  Roberto,  come  hither,  child,  you  may 
kiss  my  hand." 

"  If !  it 's  all  the  same  to  you,  Don  Kosay, 

—  that  kin  slide." 

"Ah,  if  —  yes,"  said  Don  Jose,  medita 
tively  putting  his  hand  to  his  forehead, 
"  miserable  that  I  am !  —  I  remembered  not 
you  were  Americano.  Pardon,  my  friend  — 
embrace  me  —  Conpanero  y  Amigo" 

With  characteristic  gravity  he  reclined 
for  a  moment  upon  Robert's  astonished 
breast.  Then  recovering  himself  with  equal 
gravity  he  paused,  lifted  his  hand  with  gentle 
warning,  marched  to  a  recess  in  the  corner, 
unhooked  a  rapier  hanging  from  the  wall, 
and  turned  to  his  companion. 

"We  will  defend  ourselves,  friend  Ro 
berto.  It  is  the  sword  of  the  Comandante 

—  my  ancestor.     The  blade  is  of  Toledo." 


102    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"  An  ordinary  six-shooter  of  Colt's  would 
lay  over  that,"  said  Roberto  grimly  —  "  but 
that  ain't  your  game  just  now,  Don  Kosay. 
You  must  get  up  and  get,  and  at  once.  You 
must  vamose  the  ranch  afore  they  lay  hold 
of  you  and  have  you  up  before  the  alcalde. 
Once  away  from  here,  they  dare  n't  follow 
you  where  there  's  'Merikin  law,  and  when 
you  kin  fight  'em  in  the  square." 

"  Good,"  said  Don  Jose  with  melancholy 
preciseness.  "  You  are  wise,  friend  Roberto. 
We  may  fight  them  later,  as  you  say  —  on 
the  square,  or  in  the  open  Plaza.  And  you, 
camarado,  you  shall  go  with  me  —  you  and 
your  rnare." 

Sincere  as  the  American  had  been  in  his 
offer  of  service,  he  was  somewhat  staggered 
at  this  imperative  command.  But  only  for 
a  moment.  "  Well,"  he  said  lazily,  "  I  don't 
care  if  I  do." 

"  But,"  said  Don  Jose  with  increased 
gravity,  "  you  shall  care,  friend  Roberto. 
We  shall  make  an  alliance,  an  union.  It  is 
true,  my  brother,  you  drink  of  whiskey,  and 
at  such  times  are  even  as  a  madman.  It  has 
been  recounted  to  me  that  it  was  necessary 
to  your  existence  that  you  are  a  lunatic  three 
days  of  the  week.  Who  knows  ?  I  myself, 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS     103 

though  I  drink  not  of  aguardiente,  am  ac 
cused  of  fantasies  for  all  time.  Necessary 
it  becomes  therefore  that  we  should  go 
together.  My  fantasies  and  speculations 
cannot  injure  you,  my  brother  ;  your  whiskey 
shall  not  empoison  me.  We  shall  go  to 
gether  in /the  great  world  of  your  American 
ideas  of  which  I  am  much  inflamed.  We 
shall  together  breathe  as  one  the  spirit  of 
Progress  and  Liberty.  We  shall  be  even 
as  neophytes  making  of  ourselves  Apostles 
of  Truth.  I  absolve  and  renounce  myself 
henceforth  of  my  family.  I  shall  take  to 
myself  the  sister  and  the  brother,  the  aunt 
and  the  uncle,  as  we  proceed.  I  devote  my 
self  to  humanity  alone.  I  devote  you,  my 
friend,  and  the  mare  —  though  happily  she 
has  not  a  Christian  soul — to  this  glorious 
mission." 

The  few  level  last  rays  of  light  lit  up  a 
faint  enthusiasm  in  the  face  of  Don  Jose, 
but  without  altering  his  imperturbable  grav 
ity.  The  vaquero  eyed  him  curiously  and 
half  doubtfully. 

"  We  will  go  to-morrow,"  resumed  Don 
Jose  with  solemn  decision,  "  for  it  is  Wednes 
day.  It  was  a  Sunday  that  thou  didst  ride 
the  mare  up  the  steps  of  the  Fonda  and  de- 


104    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

manded  that  thy  liquor  should  be  served  to 
thee  in  a  pail.  I  remember  it,  for  the  land 
lord  of  the  Fonda  claimed  twenty  pesos  for 
damage  and  the  kissing  of  his  wife.  There 
fore,  by  computation,  good  Roberto,  thou 
shouldst  be  sober  until  Friday,  and  we  shall 
have  two  clear  days  to  fly  before  thy  madness 
again  seizes  thee." 

"  They  kin  say  what  they  like,  Don  Ko- 
say,  but  your  head  is  level,"  returned  the 
unabashed  American,  grasping  Don  Jose's 
hand.  "  All  right,  then.  Hasta  manana, 
as  your  folks  say." 

"  Hasta  manana,"  repeated  Don  Jose 
gravely. 

At  daybreak  next  morning,  while  slum 
ber  still  weighted  the  lazy  eyelids  of  "the 
Blessed  Innocents,"  Don  Jose  Sepulvida  and 
his  trusty  squire  Roberto,  otherwise  known 
as  "  Bucking  Bob,"  rode  forth  unnoticed 
from  the  corral. 


II. 

THREE  days  had  passed.  At  the  close 
of  the  third,  Don  Jose  was  seated  in  a  cosy 
private  apartment  of  the  San  Mateo  Hotel, 
where  they  had  halted  for  an  arranged  inter- 


KN1 GET-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    105 

view  with  his  lawyer  before  reaching  San 
Francisco.  From  his  window  he  could  see 
the  surrounding  park-like  avenues  of  oaks 
and  the  level  white  high  road,  now  and  then 
clouded  with  the  dust  of  passing  teams.  But 
his  eyes  were  persistently  fixed  upon  a  small 
copy  of  the  American  Constitution  before 
him.  Suddenly  there  was  a  quick  rap  on 
his  door,  and  before  he  could  reply  to  it  a 
man  brusquely  entered. 

Don  Jose  raised  his  head  slowly,  and  rec 
ognized  the  landlord.  But  the  intruder,  ap 
parently  awed  by  the  gentle,  grave,  and 
studious  figure  before  him,  fell  back  for  an 
instant  in  an  attitude  of  surly  apology. 

"  Enter  freely,  my  good  Jenkinson,"  said 
Don  Jose,  with  a  quiet  courtesy  that  had  all 
the  effect  of  irony.  "  The  apartment,  such 
as  it  is,  is  at  your  disposition.  It  is  even 
yours,  as  is  the  house." 

"  Well,  I  'm  darned  if  I  know  as  it  is," 
said  the  landlord,  recovering  himself  roughly, 
"  and  that 's  jest  what 's  the  matter.  Yer  's 
that  man  of  yours  smashing  things  right  and 
left  in  the  bar-room  and  chuckin'  my  waiters 
through  the  window." 

"  Softly,  softly,  good  Jenkinson,"  said 
Don  Jose,  putting  a  mark  in  the  pages  of 


106    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

the  volume  before  him.  "It  is  necessary 
first  that  I  should  correct  your  speech.  He 
is  not  my  '  man?  which  I  comprehend  to 
mean  a  slave,  a  hireling,  a  thing  obnoxious 
to  the  great  American  nation  which  I  ad 
mire  and  to  which  he  belongs.  Therefore, 
good  Jenkinson,  say  4  friend,'  4  companion,' 
4  guide,'  4  philosopher,'  if  you  will.  As  to 
the  rest,  it  is  of  no  doubt  as  you  relate.  I 
myself  have  heard  the  breakings  of  glass 
and  small  dishes  as  I  sit  here  ;  three  times 
I  have  seen  your  waiters  projected  into  the 
road  with  much  violence  and  confusion.  To 
myself  I  have  then  said,  even  as  I  say  to 
you,  good  Jenkinson,  '  Patience,  patience, 
the  end  is  not  far.'  In  four  hours,"  contin 
ued  Don  Jose,  holding  up  four  fingers,  "  he 
shall  make  a  finish.  Until  then,  not." 

"  Well,  I  'm  d d,"  ejaculated  Jenkin 
son,  gasping  for  breath  in  his  indignation. 

"  Nay,  excellent  Jenkinson,  not  dam-ned 
but  of  a  possibility  d&m-aged.  That  I  shall 
repay  when  he  have  make  a  finish." 

"  But,  darn  it  all,"  broke  in  the  landlord 
angrily. 

"  Ah,"  said  Don  Jose  gravely,  "you  would 
be  paid  before  !  Good  ;  for  how  much  shall 
you  value  all  you  have  in  your  bar?  " 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    107 

Don  Jose's  imperturbability  evidently 
shook  the  landlord's  faith  in  the  soundness 
of  his  own  position.  He  looked  at  his  guest 
critically  and  audaciously. 

"  It  cost  me  two  hundred  dollars  to  fit  it 
up,"  he  said  curtly. 

Don  Jose  rose,  and,  taking  a  buckskin 
purse  from  his  saddle-bag,  counted  out  four 
slugs l  and  handed  them  to  the  stupefied 
Jenkinson.  The  next  moment,  however,  his 
host  recovered  himself,  and  casting  the  slugs 
back  on  the  little  table,  brought  his  fist 
down  with  an  emphasis  that  made  them 
dance. 

"  But,  look  yer  —  suppose  I  want  this 
thing  stopped  —  you  hear  me  —  stopped  — 
now." 

"  That  would  be  interfering  with  the  lib 
erty  of  the  subject,  my  good  Jenkinson  — 
which  God  forbid  !  "  said  Don  Jose  calmly. 
"  Moreover,  it  is  the  custom  of  the  Ameri 
canos  —  a  habit  of  my  friend  Roberto  —  a 
necessity  of  his  existence  —  and  so  recog 
nized  of  his  friends.  Patience  and  courage, 
Senor  Jenkinson.  Stay  —  ah,  I  compre 
hend  !  you  have  —  of  a  possibility  —  a 
wife  ?  " 

1  Hexagonal  gold  pieces  valued  at  $50  each,  issued  by 
a  private  firm  as  coin  in  the  early  days. 


108    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"No,  I  'm  a  widower,"  said  Jenkinson 
sharply. 

"  Then  I  congratulate  you.  My  friend 
Roberto  would  have  kissed  her.  It  is  also 
of  his  habit.  Truly  you  have  escaped  much. 
I  embrace  you,  Jenkinson." 

He  threw  his  arms  gravely  around  Jen 
kinson,  in  whose  astounded  face  at  last  an 
expression  of  dry  humor  faintly  dawned. 
After  a  moment's  survey  of  Don  Jose's  im 
penetrable  gravity,  he  coolly  gathered  up  the 
gold  coins,  and  saying  that  he  would  assess 
the  damages  and  return  the  difference,  he  left 
the  room  as  abruptly  as  he  had  entered  it. 

But  Don  Jose  was  not  destined  to  remain 
long  in  peaceful  study  of  the  American 
Constitution.  He  had  barely  taken  up  the 
book  again  and  renewed  his  serious  contem 
plation  of  its  excellences  when  there  was  an 
other  knock  at  his  door.  This  time,  in  obe 
dience  to  his  invitation  to  enter,  the  new 
visitor  approached  with  more  deliberation 
and  a  certain  formality. 

He  was  a  young  man  of  apparently  the 
same  age  as  Don  Jose,  handsomely  dressed, 
and  of  a  quiet  self-possession  and  gravity  al 
most  equal  to  his  host's. 

"  I  believe  I   am   addressing   Don   Jose 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    109 

Sepulvida,"  he  said  with  a  familiar  yet  courte 
ous  inclination  of  his  handsome  head.  Don 
Jose,  who  had  risen  in  marked  contrast  to 
his  reception  of  his  former  guest,  an 
swered,  — 

"  You  are  truly  making  to  him  a  great 
honor." 

"  Well,  you  're  going  it  blind  as  far  as 
I^m  concerned  certainly,"  said  the  young 
man,  with  a  slight  smile,  "  for  you  don't 
know  me." 

"  Pardon,  my  friend,"  said  Don  Jose 
gently,  "  in  this  book,  this  great  Testament 
of  your  glorious  nation,  I  have  read  that  you 
are  all  equal,  one  not  above,  one  not  below 
the  other.  I  salute  in  you  the  Nation  !  It 
is  enough !  " 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  the  stranger,  with 
a  face  that,  saving  the  faintest  twinkle  in  the 
corner  of  his  dark  eyes,  was  as  immovable  as 
his  host's,  "  but  for  the  purposes  of  my  busi 
ness  I  had  better  say  I  am  Jack  Hamlin,  a 
gambler,  and  am  just  now  dealing  faro  in 
the  Florida  saloon  round  the  corner." 

He  paused  carelessly,  as  if  to  allow  Don 
Jose  the  protest  he  did  not  make,  and  then 
continued,  — 

"  The  matter  is  this.     One  of  your  vaque- 


110    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

ros,  who  is,  however,  an  American,  was 
round  there  an  hour  ago  bucking  against 
faro,  and  put  up  and  lost,  not  only  the  mare 
he  was  riding,  but  a  horse  which  I  have  just 
learned  is  yours.  Now  we  reckon,  over  there, 
that  we  can  make  enough  money  playing  a 
square  game,  without  being  obliged  to  take 
property  from  a  howling  drunkard,  to  say 
nothing  of  it  not  belonging  to  him,  and  I  've 
come  here,  Don  Jose,  to  say  that  if  you  '11 
send  over  and  bring  away  your  man  and 
your  horse,  you  can  have  'em  both." 

"  If  I  have  comprehended,  honest  Ham- 
lin,"  said  Don  Jose  slowly,  "  this  Koberto, 
who  was  my  vaquero  and  is  my  brother,  has 
approached  this  faro  game  by  himself  unso 
licited  ?  " 

"  He  certainly  did  n't  seem  shy  of  it," 
said  Mr.  Hamlin  with  equal  gravity.  "  To 
the  best  of  my  knowledge  he  looked  as  if 
he  'd  been  there  before." 

"  And  if  he  had  won,  excellent  Hamlin, 
you  would  have  given  him  the  equal  of  his 
mare  and  horse  ?  " 

"  A.  hundred  dollars  for  each,  yes,  cer 
tainly." 

"  Then  I  see  not  why  I  should  send  for 
the  property  which  is  truly  no  longer  mine, 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  TEE  FOOT-HILLS.    Ill 

nor  for  my  brother  who  will  amuse  himself 
after  the  fashion  of  his  country  in  the  com 
pany  of  so  honorable  a  cdballero  as  your 
self  ?  Stay  !  oh  imbecile  that  I  am.  I  have 
not  remembered.  You  would  possibly  say 
that  he  has  no  longer  of  horses  !  Play  him  ; 
play  him,  admirable  yet  prudent  Hamlin.  I 
have  two  thousand  horses  !  Of  a  surety  he 
cannot  exhaust  them  in  four  hours.  There 
fore  play  him,  trust  to  me  for  recompensa, 
and  have  no  fear." 

A  quick  flush  covered  tfie  stranger's 
cheek,  and  his  eyebrows  momentarily  con 
tracted.  He  walked  carelessly  to  the  win 
dow,  however,  glanced  out,  and  then  turned 
to  Don  Jose. 

"  May  I  ask,  then,"  he  said  with  almost 
sepulchral  gravity,  "  is  anybody  taking  care 
of  you?" 

"  Truly/'  returned  Don  Jose  cautiously, 
"  there  is  my  brother  and  friend  Roberto." 

"  Ah !  Roberto,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Ham 
lin  profoundly. 

"  Why  do  you  ask,  considerate  friend  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  only  thought,  with  your  kind  of 
opinions,  you  must  often  feel  lonely  in  Cali 
fornia.  Good-bye."  He  shook  Don  Jose's 
hand  heartily,  took  up  his  hat,  inclined  his 


112    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

head  with  graceful  seriousness,  and  passed 
out  of  the  room.  In  the  hall  he  met  the 
landlord. 

"  Well,"  said  Jenkinson,  with  a  smile  half 
anxious,  half  insinuating,  "  you  saw  him  ? 
What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Hamlin  paused  and  regarded  Jenkin 
son  with  a  calmly  contemplative  air,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  remember  first  who  he  was, 
and  secondly  why  he  should  speak  to  him  at 
all.  "  Think  of  whom  ?  "  he  repeated  care 
lessly. 

"  Why  him  —  you  know  —  Don  Jose." 

"  I  did  not  see  anything  the  matter  with 
Mm,"  returned  Hamlin  with  frigid  simpli 
city. 

"  What  ?  nothing  queer  ?  " 

"  Well,  no  —  except  that  he  *s  a  guest  in 
your  house,"  said  Hamlin  with  great  cheer 
fulness.  "  But  then,  as  you  keep  a  hotel, 
you  can't  help  occasionally  admitting  a  — 
gentleman." 

Mr.  Jenkinson  smiled  the  uneasy  smile  of 
a  man  who  knew  that  his  interlocutor's  play 
fulness  occasionally  extended  to  the  use  of  a 
derringer,  in  which  he  was  singularly  prompt 
and  proficient,  and  Mr.  Hamlin,  equally 
conscious  of  that  knowledge  on  the  part  of 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    113 

his  companion,  descended  the  staircase  com 
posedly. 

But  the  day  had  darkened  gradually  into 
night,  and  Don  Jose  was  at  last  compelled 
to  put  aside  his  volume.  The  sound  of  a 
large  bell  rung  violently  along  the  hall  and 
passages  admonished  him  that  the  American 
dinner  was  ready,  and  although  the  viands 
and  the  mode  of  cooking  were  not  entirely 
to  his  fancy,  he  had,  in  his  grave  enthusiasm 
for  the  national  habits,  attended  the  table 
d'hdte  regularly  with  Roberto.  On  reaching 
the  lower  hall  he  was  informed  that  his 
henchman  had  early  succumbed  to  the  po 
tency  of  his  libations,  and  had  already  been 
carried  by  two  men  to  bed.  Receiving  this 
information  with  his  usual  stoical  composure, 
he  entered  the  dining-room,  but  was  surprised 
to  find  that  a  separate  table  had  been  pre 
pared  for  him  by  the  landlord,  and  that  a 
rude  attempt  had  been  made  to  serve  him 
with  his  own  native  dishes. 

"  Senores  y  Senoritas,"  said  Don  Jose, 
turning  from  it  and  with  grave  politeness  ad 
dressing  the  assembled  company,  "  if  I  seem 
to-day  to  partake  alone  and  in  a  reserved 
fashion  of  certain  viands  that  have  been  pre 
pared  for  me,  it  is  truly  from  no  lack  of 


114    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

courtesy  to  your  distinguished  company,  but 
rather,  I  protest,  to  avoid  the  appearance  of 
greater  discourtesy  to  our  excellent  Jenkin- 
son,  who  has  taken  some  pains  and  trouble 
to  comport  his  establishment  to  what  he  con 
ceives  to  be  my  desires.  Wherefore,  my 
friends,  in  God's  name  fall  to,  the  same  as  if 
I  were  not  present,  and  grace  be  with  you." 

A  few  stared  at  the  tall,  gentle,  melan 
choly  figure  with  some  astonishment ;  a  few 
whispered  to  their  neighbors ;  but  when,  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  repast,  Don  Jose  arose 
and  again  saluted  the  company,  one  or  two 
stood  up  and  smilingly  returned  the  courtesy, 
and  Polly  Jenkinson,  the  landlord's  youngest 
daughter,  to  the  great  delight  of  her  com 
panions,  blew  him  a  kiss. 

After  visiting  the  vaquero  in  his  room, 
and  with  his  own  hand  applying  some  native 
ointment  to  the  various  contusions  and 
scratches  which  recorded  the  late  engage 
ments  of  the  unconscious  Roberto,  Don  Jose 
placed  a  gold  coin  in  the  hands  of  the  Irish 
chamber-maid,  and  bidding  her  look  after 
the  sleeper,  he  threw  his  serape  over  his 
shoulders  and  passed  into  the  road.  The 
loungers  on  the  veranda  gazed  at  him  curi 
ously,  yet  half  acknowledged  his  usual  se- 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF   THE  FOOT-HILLS.     115 

rious  salutation,  and  made  way  for  him  with 
a  certain  respect.  Avoiding  the  few  narrow 
streets  of  the  little  town,  he  pursued  his  way 
meditatively  along  the  highroad,  returning 
to  the  hotel  after  an  hour's  ramble,  as  the 
evening  stage-coach  had  deposited  its  passen 
gers  and  departed. 

"  There  's  a  lady  waiting  to  see  you  up 
stairs,"  said  the  landlord  with  a  peculiar 
smile.  "  She  rather  allowed  it  was  n't  the 
proper  thing  to  see  you  alone,  or  she  was  n't 
quite  ekal  to  it,  I  reckon,  for  she  got  my 
Polly  to  stand  by  her." 

"  Your  Polly,  good  Jenkinson  ?  "  said  Don 
Jose  interrogatively. 

"  My  darter,  Don  Jose." 

"  Ah,  truly !  I  am  twice  blessed,"  said 
Don  Jose,  gravely  ascending  the  staircase. 

On  entering  the  room  he  perceived  a  tall, 
large-featured  woman  with  an  extraordinary 
quantity  of'  blond  hair  parted  on  one  side  of 
her  broad  forehead,  sitting  upon  the  sofa. 
Beside  her  sat  Polly  Jenkinson,  her  fresh, 
honest,  and  rather  pretty  face  beaming  with 
delighted  expectation  and  mischief.  Don 
Jose  saluted  them  with  a  formal  courtesy, 
which,  however,  had  no  trace  of  the  fact  that 
he  really  did  not  remember  anything  of 
them. 


116    KNIGHT-ERRANT   OF   THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"  I  called,"  said  the  large-featured  woman 
with  a  voice  equally  pronounced,  "  in  refer 
ence  to  a  request  from  you,  which,  though 
perhaps  unconventional  in  the  extreme,  I 
have  been  able  to  meet  by  the  intervention 
of  this  young  lady's  company.  My  name  on 
this  card  may  not  be  familiar  to  you  —  but 
I  am  '  Dorothy  Dewdrop.' ' 

A  slight  movement  of  abstraction  and  sur 
prise  passed  over  Don  Jose's  face,  but  as 
quickly  vanished  as  he  advanced  towards  her 
and  gracefully  raised  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
to  his  lips.  "  Have  I  then,  at  last,  the  priv 
ilege  of  beholding  that  most  distressed  and 
deeply  injured  of  women !  Or  is  it  but  a 
dream !  " 

It  certainly  was  not,  as  far  as  concerned 
the  substantial  person  of  the  woman  before 
him,  who,  however,  seemed  somewhat  uneasy 
under  his  words  as  well  as  the  demure  scru 
tiny  of  Miss  Jenkinson.  "I  thought  you 
might  have  forgotten,"  she  said  with  slight 
acerbity,  "  that  you  desired  an  interview  with 
the  authoress  of  "  — 

"  Pardon,"  interrupted  Don  Jose,  stand 
ing  before  her  in  an  attitude  of  the  deepest 
sympathizing  dejection,  u  I  had  not  forgot 
ten.  It  is  now  three  weeks  since  I  have 


KNIGHT-ERRANT   OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    117 

read*  in  the  journal  '  Golden  Gate  '  the  elo 
quent  and  touching  poem  of  your  sufferings, 
and  your  aspirations,  and  your  miscompre 
hensions  by  thos$  you  love.  I  remember  as 
yesterday  that  you  have  said,  that  cruel  fate 
have  linked  you  to  a  soulless  state  —  that  — 
but  I  speak  not  well  your  own  beautiful  lan 
guage  —  you  are  in  tears  at  evenf all  '  because 
that  you  are  not  understood  of  others,  and 
that  your  soul  recoiled  from  iron  bonds,  un 
til,  as  in  a  dream,  you  sought  succor  and  re 
lease  in  some  true  Knight  of  equal  plight.'  ' 

"I  am  told,"  said  the  large  featured  wo 
man  with  some  satisfaction,  "  that  the  poem 
to  which  you  allude  has  been  generally  ad 
mired." 

"  Admired  !  Senora,"  said  Don  Jose,  with 
still  darker  sympathy,  "  it  is  not  the  word  ; 
it  is  felt.  I  have  felt  it.  When  I  read  those 
words  of  distress,  I  am  touched  of  compas 
sion  !  I  have  said,  This  woman,  so  discon 
solate,  so  oppressed,  must  be  relieved,  pro 
tected  !  I  have  wrote  to  you,  at  the  '  Golden 
Gate,'  to  see  me  here." 

"And  I  have  come,  as  you  perceive,"  said 
the  poetess,  rising  with  a  slight  smile  of  con 
straint  ;  "  and  emboldened  by  your  appre 
ciation,  I  have  brought  a  few  trifles  thrown 
off"  — 


118    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"  Pardon,  unhappy  Senora,"  interrupted 
Don  Jose,  lifting  his  hand  deprecatingly 
without  relaxing  his  melancholy  precision, 
"but  to  a  cavalier  further  evidence  is  not 
required  —  and  I  have  not  yet  make  finish. 
I  have  not  content  myself  to  write  to  you. 
I  have  sent  my  trusty  friend  Roberto  to 
inquire  at  the  '  Golden  Gate '  of  your  con 
dition.  I  have  found  there,  most  unhappy 
and  persecuted  friend  —  that  with  truly  an 
gelic  forbearance  you  have  not  told  all  — 
that  you  are  married,  and  that  of  a  neces 
sity  it  is  your  husband  that  is  cold  and  soul 
less  and  unsympathizing  —  and  all  that  you 
describe." 

"  Sir !  "  said  the  poetess,  rising  in  angry 
consternation. 

"  I  have  written  to  him,"  continued  Don 
Jose*,  with  unheeding  gravity ;  "  have  ap 
pealed  to  him  as  a  friend,  I  have  conjured 
him  as  a  caballero,  I  have  threatened  him 
even  as  a  champion  of  the  Right,  I  have  said 
to  him,  in  effect  —  that  this  must  not  be 
as  it  is.  I  have  informed  him  that  I  have 
made  an  appointment  with  you  even  at  this 
house,  and  I  challenged  him  to  meet  you 
here  —  in  this  room  —  even  at  this  instant, 
and,  with  God's  help,  we  should  make  good 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    119 

our  charges  against  him.  It  is  yet  early ;  I 
have  allowed  time  for  the  lateness  of  the 
stage  and  the  fact  that  he  will  come  by  an 
other  conveyance.  Therefore,  O  Dona  Dew- 
drop,  tremble  not  like  thy  namesake  as  it 
were  on  the  leaf  of  apprehension  and  expec 
tancy.  I,  Don  Jose*,  am  here  to  protect  thee. 
I  will  take  these  charges  "  —  gently  with 
drawing  the  manuscripts  from  her  astonished 
grasp  —  "  though  even,  as  I  related  to  thee 
before,  I  want  them  not,  yet  we  will  together 
confront  him  with  them  and  make  them 
good  against  him." 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  "  demanded  the  lady  in 
almost  stentorious  accents,  "  or  is  this  an 
unmanly  hoax  ?  "  Suddenly  she  stopped  in 
undeniable  consternation.  "  Good  heavens," 
she  muttered,  "  if  Abner  should  believe  this. 
He  is  such  a  fool !  He  has  lately  been 
queer  and  jealous.  Oh  dear ! "  she  said, 
turning  to  Polly  Jenkinson  with  the  first  in 
dication  of  feminine  weakness,  "  is  he  tell 
ing  the  truth  ?  is  he  crazy?  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Polly  Jenkinson,  who  had  witnessed  the 
interview  with  the  intensest  enjoyment,  now 
rose  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,"  she  said,  up 
lifting  her  demure  blue  eyes  to  Don  Jose's 


120    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

dark  and  melancholy  gaze.  "  This  lady  is 
a  poetess  !  The  sufferings  she  depicts,  the 
sorrows  she  feels,  are  in  the  imagination,  in 
her  fancy  only." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Don  Jose  gloomily ;  "  then  it 
is  all  false." 

"No,"  said  Polly  quickly,  "  only  they  are 
not  her  own,  you  know.  They  are  somebody 
elses.  She  only  describes  them  for  another, 
don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  And  who,  then,  is  this  unhappy  one  ?  " 
asked  the  Don  quickly. 

"  Well  —  a  —  friend,"  stammered  Polly, 
hesitatingly. 

"  A  friend  !  "  repeated  Don  Jose.  "  Ah, 
I  see,  of  possibility  a  dear  one,  even,"  he 
continued,  gazing  with  tender  melancholy 
into  the  untroubled  cerulean  depths  of 
Polly's  eyes,  "  even,  but  no,  child,  it  could 
not  be  !  tJiou  art  too  young." 

"  Ah,"  said  Polly,  with  an  extraordinary 
gulp  and  a  fierce  nudge  of  the  poetess,  "  but 
it  was  me." 

"  You,  Senorita,"  repeated  Don  Jose,  fall 
ing  back  in  an  attitude  of  mingled  admira 
tion  and  pity.  "  You,  the  child  of  Jenkin- 
son!" 

"  Yes,   yes,"  joined   in   the  poetess   hur- 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    121 

riedly ;  "  but  that  isn't  going  to  stop  the  con 
sequences  of  your  wretched  blunder.  My 
husband  will  be  furious,  and  will  be  here  at 
any  moment.  Good  gracious  !  what  is  that  ?  " 

The  violent  slamming  of  a  distant  door  at 
that  instant,  the  sounds  of  quick  scuffling 
on  the  staircase,  and  the  uplifting  of  an  irate 
voice  had  reached  her  ears  and  thrown  her 
back  in  the  arms  of  Polly  Jenkinson.  Even 
the  young  girl  herself  turned  an  anxious 
gaze  towards  the  door.  Don  Jose  alone  was 
unmoved. 

"Possess  yourselves  in  peace,  Senoritas," 
he  said  calmly.  "  We  have  here  only  the 
characteristic  convalescence  of  my  friend 
and  brother,  the  excellent  Roberto.  He  will 
ever  recover  himself  from  drink  with  vio 
lence,  even  as  he  precipitates  himself  into  it 
with  fury.  He  has  been  prematurely  awak 
ened.  I  will  discover  the  cause." 

With  an  elaborate  bow  to  the  frightened 
women,  he  left  the  room.  Scarcely  had  the 
door  closed  when  the  poetess  turned  quickly 
to  Polly.  "  The  man  's  a  stark  staring  luna 
tic,  but,  thank  Heaven,  Abner  will  see  it  at 
once.  And  now  let 's  get  away  while  we 
can.  To  think,"  she  said,  snatching  up  her 
scattered  manuscripts,  "  that  that  was  all  the 
beast  wanted." 


122    KNIGHT  KRRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-BILLS. 

"  I  'm  sure  he  's  very  gentle  and  kind,'* 
said  Polly,  recovering  her  dimples  with  a  de 
mure  pout ;  "  but  stop,  he  's  coming  back." 

It  was  indeed  Don  Jose*  re-entering  the 
room  with  the  composure  of  a  relieved  and 
self-satisfied  mind.  "  It  is  even  as  I  said, 
Seiiora,"  he  began,  taking  the  poetess's 
hand,  —  "  and  more.  You  are  saved  !  " 

As  the  women  only  stared  at  each  other, 
he  gravely  folded  his  arms  and  continued : 
"  I  will  explain.  For  the  instant  I  have  not 
remember  that,  in  imitation  of  your  own 
delicacy,  I  have  given  to  your  husband  in 
my  letter,  not  the  name  of  myself,  but,  as  a 
mere  Don  Fulano,  the  name  of  iny  brother 
Roberto  — 4  Bucking  Bob.'  Your  husband 
have  this  moment  arrive !  Penetrating  the 
bedroom  of  the  excellent  Roberto,  he  has  in 
discreetly  seize  him  in  his  bed,  without  ex 
planation,  without  introduction,  without  fear ! 
The  excellent  Roberto,  ever  ready  for  such 
distractions,  have  respond !  In  a  word,  to 
use  the  language  of  the  good  Jenkinson  — 
our  host,  our  father  —  who  was  present,  he 
have  'wiped  the  floor  with  your  husband,' 
and  have  even  carried  him  down  the  stair 
case  to  the  street.  Believe  me,  he  will  not 
return.  You  are  free !  " 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    123 

"  Fool !  Idiot !  Crazy  beast !  "  said  the 
poetess,  dashing  past  him  and  out  of  the 
door.  "  You  shall  pay  for  this  !  " 

Don  Josd  did  not  change  his  imperturbable 
and  melancholy  calm.  "  And  now,  little 
one,"  he  said,  dropping  on  one  knee  before 
the  half -frightened  Polly,  "  child  of  Jenkin- 
son,  now  that  thy  perhaps  too  excitable 
sponsor  has,  in  a  poet's  caprice,  abandoned 
thee  for  some  newer  fantasy,  confide  in  me 
thy  distress,  to  me,  thy  Knight,  and  tell  the 
story  of  thy  sorrows." 

"  But,"  said  Polly,  rising  to  her  feet  and 
struggling  between  a  laugh  and  a  cry.  "  I 
have  n't  any  sorrows.  Oh  dear !  don't  you 
see,  it 's  only  her  fancy  to  make  me  seem 
so.  There  's  nothing  the  matter  with  me." 

"  Nothing  the  matter,"  repeated  Don  Jose 
slowly.  u  You  have  no  distress?  You  want 
no  succor,  no  relief,  no  protector?  This, 
then,  is  but  another  delusion !  "  he  said, 
rising  sadly. 

"  Yes,  no  —  that  is  —  oh,  my  gracious 
goodness !  "  said  Polly,  hopelessly  divided 
between  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous  and  some 
strange  attraction  in  the  dark,  gentle  eyes 
that  were  fixed  upon  her  half  reproachfully. 
"You  don't  understand." 


124    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

Don  Jose*  replied  only  with  a  melancholy 
smile,  and  then  going  to  the  door,  opened  it 
with  a  bowed  head  and  respectful  courtesy. 
At  the  act,  Polly  plucked  up  courage  again, 
and  with  it  a  slight  dash  of  her  old  audacity. 

"  I  'm  sure  I  'm  very  sorry  that  I  ain't  got 
any  love  sorrows,"  she  said  demurely.  "  And 
I  suppose  it 's  very  dreadful  in  me  not  to 
have  been  raving  and  broken-hearted  over 
somebody  or  other  as  that  woman  has  said. 
Only,"  she  waited  till  she  had  gained  the 
secure  vantage  of  the  threshold,  "  I  never 
knew  a  gentleman  to  object  to  it  before !  " 

With  this  Parthian  arrow  from  her  blue 
eyes  she  slipped  into  the  passage  and  van 
ished  through  the  door  of  the  opposite  par 
lor.  For  an  instant  Don  Jose'  remained 
motionless  and  reflecting.  Then,  recovering 
himself  with  grave  precision,  he  deliberately 
picked  up  his  narrow  black  gloves  from  the 
table,  drew  them  on,  took  his  hat  in  his 
hand,  and  solemnly  striding  across  the  pas 
sage,  entered  the  door  that  had  just  closed 
behind  her. 

III. 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  in  the  mean 
time  the  flight  of  Don  Jose*  and  his  follower 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    125 

was  unattended  by  any  commotion  at  the 
rancho  of  the  Blessed  Innocents.  At  the 
end  of  three  hours'  deliberation,  in  which  the 
retainers  were  severally  examined,  the  corral 
searched,  and  the  well  in  the  courtyard 
sounded,  scouts  were  dispatched  in  different 
directions,  who  returned  with  the  surprising 
information  that  the  fugitives  were  not  in 
the  vicinity.  A  trustworthy  messenger  was 
sent  to  Monterey  for  "  custom-house  paper," 
on  which  to  draw  up  a  formal  declaration  of 
the  affair.  The  archbishop  was  summoned 
from  San  Luis,  and  Don  Victor  and  Don 
Vincente  Sepulvida,  with  the  Donas  Carmen 
and  Inez  Alvarado,  and  a  former  alcalde, 
gathered  at  a  family  council  the  next  day. 
In  this  serious  conclave  the  good  Father 
Felipe  once  more  expounded  the  alienated 
condition  and  the  dangerous  reading  of  the 
absent  man.  In  the  midst  of  which  the  ordi 
nary  post  brought  a  letter  from  Don  Jose, 
calmly  inviting  the  family  to  dine  with  him 
and  Roberto  at  San  Mateo  on  the  following 
Wednesday.  The  document  was  passed 
gravely  from  hand  to  hand.  Was  it  a  fresh 
evidence  of  mental  aberration  —  an  audacity 
of  frenzy  —  or  a  trick  of  the  vaquero  ?  The 
archbishop  and  alcalde  shook  their  heads 


126    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

—  it  was  without  doubt  a  lawless,  even  a 
sacrilegious  and  blasphemous  fete.  But  a 
certain  curiosity  of  the  ladies  and  of  Father 
Felipe  carried  the  day.  Without  formally 
accepting  the  invitation  it  was  decided  that 
the  family  should  examine  the  afflicted  man, 
with  a  view  of  taking  active  measures  here 
after.  On  the  day  appointed,  the  traveling 
carriage  of  the  Sepulvidas,  an  equipage  co 
eval  with  the  beginning  of  the  century, 
drawn  by  two  white  mules  gaudily  capari 
soned,  halted  before  the  hotel  at  San  Mateo 
and  disgorged  Father  Felipe,  the  Donas  Car 
men  and  Inez  Alvarado  and  Maria  Sepul- 
vida,  while  Don  Victor  and  Don  Vincente 
Sepulvida,  their  attendant  cavaliers  on  fiery 
mustangs,  like  outriders,  drew  rein  at  the 
same  time.  A  slight  thrill  of  excitement,  as 
of  the  advent  of  a  possible  circus,  had  pre 
ceded  them  through  the  little  town ;  a  faint 
blending  of  cigarette  smoke  and  garlic  an 
nounced  their  presence  on  the  veranda. 

Ushered  into  the  parlor  of  the  hotel,  ap 
parently  set  apart  for  their  reception,  they 
were  embarrassed  at  not  finding  their  host 
present.  But  they  were  still  more  discon 
certed  when  a  tall  full-bearded  stranger,  with 
a  shrewd  amused-looking  face,  rose  from  a 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    127 

chair  by  the  window,  and  stepping  forward, 
saluted  them  in  fluent  Spanish  with  a  slight 
American  accent. 

"  I  have  to  ask  you,  gentlemen  and  ladies," 
he  began,  with  a  certain  insinuating  ease 
and  frankness  that  alternately  aroused  and 
lulled  their  suspicions,  "to  pardon  the  ab 
sence  of  our  friend  Don  Jose  Sepulvida  at 
this  preliminary  greeting.  For  to  be  per 
fectly  frank  with  you,  although  the  ultimate 
aim  and  object  of  our  gathering  is  a  social 
one,  you  are  doubtless  aware  that  certain  in 
felicities  and  misunderstandings  —  common 
to  most  families  —  have  occurred,  and  a 
free,  dispassionate,  unprejudiced  discussion 
and  disposal  of  them  at  the  beginning  will 
only  tend  to  augment  the  goodwill  of  our 
gathering." 

"  The  Sen  or  without  doubt  is  "  —  sug 
gested  the  padre,  with  a  polite  interrogative 
pause. 

"  Pardon  me  !  I  forgot  to  introduce  my 
self.  Colonel  Parker  —  entirely  at  your  ser 
vice  and  that  of  these  charming  ladies." 

The  ladies  referred  to  allowed  their  eyes 
to  rest  with  evident  prepossession  on  the  in 
sinuating  stranger.  "  Ah,  a  soldier,"  said 
Don  Vincente. 


128    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-UILLS. 

"Formerly,"  said  the  American  lightly; 
"  at  present  a  lawyer,  the  counsel  of  Don 
Jose." 

A  sudden  rigor  of  suspicion  stiffened  the 
company ;  the  ladies  withdrew  their  eyes ; 
the  priest  and  the  Sepulvidas  exchanged 
glances. 

"  Come,"  said  Colonel  Parker,  with  ap 
parent  unconsciousness  of  the  effect  of  his 
disclosure,  "  let  us  begin  frankly.  You  have, 
I  believe,  some  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  men 
tal  condition  of  Don  Jose." 

"  We  believe  him  to  be  mad,"  said  Padre 
Felipe  promptly,  "  irresponsible,  possessed !  " 

"  That  is  your  opinion ;  good,"  said  the 
lawyer  quietly. 

"  And  ours  too,"  clamored  the  party, 
"  without  doubt." 

"  Good,"  returned  the  lawyer  with  perfect 
cheerfulness.  "  As  his  relations,  you  have 
no  doubt  had  superior  opportunities  for  ob 
serving  his  condition.  I  understand  also 
that  you  may  think  it  necessary  to  have  him 
legally  declared  non  compos,  a  proceeding 
which,  you  are  aware,  might  result  in  the 
incarceration  of  our  distinguished  friend  in 
a  mad-house." 

"  Pardon,  Senor,"  interrupted  Dona  Maria 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    129 

proudly,  "  you  do  not  comprehend  the  family. 
When  a  Sepulvida  is  visited  of  God  we  do 
not  ask  the  Government  to  confine  him  like 
a  criminal.  We  protect  him  in  his  own 
house  from  the  consequences  of  his  frenzy." 

"From  the  machinations  of  the  worldly 
and  heretical,"  broke  in  the  priest,  "and 
from  the  waste  and  dispersion  of  inherited 
possessions." 

"  Very  true,"  continued  Colonel  Parker, 
with  unalterable  good-humor ;  "  but  I  was 
only  about  to  say  that  there  might  be  con 
flicting  evidence  of  his  condition.  For  in 
stance,  our  friend  has  been  here  three  days. 
In  that  time  he  has  had  three  interviews 
with  three  individuals  under  singular  circum 
stances."  Colonel  Parker  then  briefly  re 
counted  the  episodes  of  the  landlord,  the 
gambler,  Miss  Jenkinson  and  the  poetess,  as 
they  had  been  related  to  him.  "  Yet,"  he 
continued,  "  all  but  one  of  these  individuals 
are  willing  to  swear  that  they  not  only  be 
lieve  Don  Jos£  perfectly  sane,  but  endowed 
with  a  singularly  sound  judgment.  In  fact, 
the  testimony  of  Mr.  Hamlin  and  Miss  Jen 
kinson  is  remarkably  clear  on  that  subject." 

The  company  exchanged  a  supercilious 
smile.  "  Do  you  not  see,  O  Senor  Advo- 


130    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

cate,"  said  Don  Vincente  compassionately, 
"  that  this  is  but  a  conspiracy  to  avail  them 
selves  of  our  relative's  weakness.  Of  a 
necessity  they  find  him  sane  who  benefits 
them." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,  and  am  glad  to 
hear  you  say  so,"  returned  the  lawyer  still 
more  cheerfully,  "  for  your  prompt  opinion 
emboldens  me  to  be  at  once  perfectly  frank 
with  you.  Briefly  then,  Don  Jose  has  sum 
moned  me  here  to  make  a  final  disposition  of 
his  property.  In  the  carrying  out  of  certain 
theories  of  his,  which  it  is  not  my  province 
to  question,  he  has  resolved  upon  compara 
tive  poverty  for  himself  as  best  fitted  for  his 
purpose,  and  to  employ  his  wealth  solely  for 
others.  In  fact,  of  all  his  vast  possessions 
he  retains  for  himself  only  an  income  suffi 
cient  for  the  bare  necessaries  of  life." 

"  And  you  have  done  this  ?  "  they  asked 
in  one  voice. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  Blessed  San  Antonio,  we  have  come  in 
time!"  ejaculated  Dona  Carmen.  "Another 
day  and  it  would  have  been  too  late ;  it  was 
an  inspiration  of  the  Blessed  Innocents 
themselves,"  said  Dona  Maria,  crossing  her 
self.  "  Can  you  longer  doubt  that  this  is 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    131 

the  wildest  madness?"  said  Father  Felipe 
with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Yet,"  returned  the  lawyer,  caressing  his 
heavy  beard  with  a  meditative  smile,  "  the 
ingenious  fellow  actually  instanced  the  vows 
of  your  own  order,  reverend  sir,  as  an  ex 
ample  in  support  of  his  theory.  But  to  be 
brief.  Conceiving,  then,  that  his  holding 
of  property  was  a  mere  accident  of  heri 
tage,  not  admitted  by  him,  unworthy  his  ac 
ceptance,  and  a  relic  of  superstitious  igno 
rance  "  — 

"  This  is  the  very  sacrilege  of  Satanic  pre 
possession,"  broke  in  the  priest  indignantly. 

"  He  therefore,"  continued  the  lawyer 
composedly,  "  makes  over  and  reverts  the 
whole  of  his  possessions,  with  the  exceptions 
I  have  stated,  to  his  family  and  the  Church." 

A  breathless  and  stupefying  silence  fell 
upon  the  company.  In  the  dead  hush  the 
sound  of  Polly  Jenkin  son's  piano,  played  in 
a  distant  room,  could  be  distinctly  heard. 
With  their  vacant  eyes  staring  at  him  the 
speaker  continued : 

"  That  deed  of  gift  I  have  drawn  up  as  he 
dictated  it.  I  don't  mind  saying  that  in  the 
opinion  of  some  he  might  be  declared  non 
compos  upon  the  evidence  of  that  alone.  I 


132    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS, 

need  not  say  how  relieved  I  am  to  find  that 
your  opinion  coincides  with  my  own." 

"  But,"  gasped  Father  Felipe  hurriedly, 
with  a  quick  glance  at  the  others,  "  it  does 
not  follow  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  resort 
to  these  legal  measures.  Care,  counsel,  per 
suasion  —  " 

"  The  general  ministering  of  kinship  — 
nursing,  a  woman's  care  —  the  instincts  of 
affection,"  piped  Dona  Maria  in  breathless 
eagerness. 

"  Any  light  social  distraction  —  a  harm 
less  flirtation  —  a  possible  attachment,"  sug 
gested  Dona  Carmen  shyly. 

<6  Change  of  scene  —  active  exercise  —  ex 
periences  —  even  as  those  you  have  related," 
broke  in  Don  Vincente. 

"  I  for  one  have  ever  been  opposed  to  legal 
measures,"  said  Don  Victor.  "A  mere  con 
sultation  of  friends  —  in  fact,  &fete  like  this 
is  sufficient." 

"  Good  friends,"  said  Father  Felipe,  who 
had  by  this  time  recovered  himself,  taking 
out  his  snuff-box  portentously,  "  it  would 
seem  truly,  from  the  document  which  this 
discreet  caballero  has  spoken  of,  that  the 
errors  of  our  dear  Don  Jose  are  rather  of 
method  than  intent,  and  that  while  we  may 
freely  accept  the  one  "  — 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.     133 

"  Pardon,"  interrupted  Colonel  Parker 
with  bland  persistence,  "  but  I  must  point 
out  to  you  that  what  we  call  in  law  4  a  con 
sideration  '  is  necessary  to  the  legality  of  a 
conveyance,  even  though  that  consideration 
be  frivolous  and  calculated  to  impair  the 
validity  of  the  document." 

"  Truly,"  returned  the  good  padre  insinu 
atingly  ;  "  but  if  a  discreet  advocate  were  to 
suggest  the  substitution  of  some  more  pious 
and  reasonable  consideration  "  — 

"  But  that  would  be  making  it  a  perfectly 
sane  and  gratuitous  document,  not  only  glar 
ingly  inconsistent  with  your  charges,  my 
good  friends,  with  Don  Jose's  attitude  to 
wards  you  and  his  flight  from  home,  but 
open  to  the  gravest  suspicion  in  law.  In 
fact,  its  apparent  propriety  in  the  face  of 
these  facts  would  imply  improper  influence." 

The  countenances  of  the  company  fell. 
The  lawyer's  face,  however,  became  still 
more  good-humored  and  sympathizing.  "  The 
case  is  simply  this.  If  in  the  opinion  of 
judge  and  jury  Don  Jose  is  declared  insane, 
the  document  is  worthless  except  as  a  proof 
of  that  fact  or  a  possible  indication  of  the 
undue  influence  of  his  relations,  which  might 
compel  the  court  to  select  his  guardians  and 
trustees  elsewhere  than  among  them." 


134    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

"Friend  Abogado,"  said  Father  Felipe 
with  extraordinary  deliberation,  "the  docu 
ment  thou  hast  just  described  so  eloquently 
convinces  me  beyond  all  doubt  that  Don 
Jose*  is  not  only  perfectly  sane  but  endowed 
with  a  singular  discretion.  I  consider  it  as 
a  delicate  and  high-spirited  intimation  to  us, 
his  friends  and  kinsmen,  of  his  unalterable 
and  logically  just  devotion  to  his  family  and 
religion,  whatever  may  seem  to  be  his  poeti 
cal  and  imaginative  manner  of  declaring  it. 
I  think  there  is  not  one  here,"  continued  the 
padre,  looking  around  him  impressively, 
"  who  is  not  entirely  satisfied  of  Don  Jose*'s 
reason  and  competency  to  arrange  his  own 
affairs." 

"  Entirely,"  "  truly,"  "  perfectly,"  eagerly 
responded  the  others  with  affecting  spon 
taneity. 

"  Nay,  more.  To  prevent  any  misconcep 
tion,  we  shall  deem  it  our  duty  to  take  every 
opportunity  of  making  our  belief  publicly 
known,"  added  Father  Felipe. 

The  padre  and  Colonel  Parker  gazed  long 
and  gravely  into  each  other's  eyes.  It  may 
have  been  an  innocent  touch  of  the  sunlight 
through  the  window,  but  a  faint  gleam 
seemed  to  steal  into  the  pupil  of  the  affable 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    135 

lawyer  at  the  same  moment  that,  probably 
from  the  like  cause,  there  was  a  slight  ner 
vous  contraction  of  the  left  eyelid  of  the 
pious  father.  But  it  passed,  and  the  next 
instant  the  door  opened  to  admit  Don  Jose 
Sepulvida. 

He  was  at  once  seized  and  effusively  em 
braced  by  the  entire  company  with  every 
protest  of  affection  and  respect.  Not  only 
Mr.  Hamlin  and  Mr.  Jenkinson,  who  ac 
companied  him  as  invited  guests,  but  Ro 
berto,  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes  and  guiltless 
of  stain  or  trace  of  dissipation,  shared  in 
the  pronounced  friendliness  of  the  kinsmen. 
Padre  Felipe  took  snuff,  Colonel  Parker 
blew  his  nose  gently. 

Nor  were  they  less  demonstrative  of  their 
new  convictions  later  at  the  banquet.  Don 
Jose,  with  Jenkinson  and  the  padre  on  his 
right  and  left,  preserved  his  gentle  and  half- 
melancholy  dignity  in  the  midst  of  the  noisy 
fraternization.  Even  Padre  Felipe,  in  a 
brief  speech  or  exhortation  proposing  the 
health  of  their  host,  lent  himself  in  his  own 
tongue  to  this  polite  congeniality.  "  We 
have  had  also,  my  friends  and  brothers,"  he 
said  in  peroration,  "  a  pleasing  example  of 
the  compliment  of  imitation  shown  by  our 


136    KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS. 

beloved  Don  Jose*.  No  one  who  has  known 
him  during  his  friendly  sojourn  in  this  com 
munity  but  will  be  struck  with  the  conviction 
that  he  has  acquired  that  most  marvelous 
faculty  of  your  great  American  nation,  the 
exhibition  of  humor  and  of  the  practical 
joke." 

Every  eye  was  turned  upon  the  impertur 
bable  face  of  Don  Josd  as  he  slowly  rose  to 
reply.  "  In  bidding  you  to  this  fete,  my 
friends  and  kinsmen,"  he  began  calmly,  "  it 
was  with  the  intention  of  formally  embrac 
ing  the  habits,  customs,  and  spirit  of  Ameri 
can  institutions  by  certain  methods  of  renun 
ciation  of  the  past,  as  became  a  cdballero  of 
honor  and  resolution.  Those  methods  may 
possibly  be  known  to  some  of  you."  He 
paused  for  a  moment  as  if  to  allow  the 
members  of  his  family  to  look  unconscious. 
"  Since  then,  in  the  wisdom  of  God,  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  my  purpose  may  be  as 
honorably  effected  by  a  discreet  blending  of 
the  past  and  the  present  —  in  a  word,  by  the 
judicious  combination  of  the  interests  of  my 
native  people  and  the  American  nation.  In 
consideration  of  that  purpose,  friends  and 
kinsmen,  I  ask  you  to  join  me  in  drinking 
the  good  health  of  my  host  Senor  Jenkinson, 


KNIGHT-ERRANT  OF  THE  FOOT-HILLS.    ]S7 

my  future  father-in-law,  from  whom  I  have 
to-day  had  the  honor  to  demand  the  hand 
of  the  peerless  Polly,  his  daughter,  as  the 
future  mistress  of  the  Rancho  of  the  Blessed 
Innocents." 

The  marriage  took  place  shortly  after. 
Nor  was  the  free  will  and  independence  of 
Don  Jose  Sepulvida  in  the  least  opposed  by 
his  relations.  Whether  they  felt  they  had 
already  committed  themselves,  or  had  hopes 
in  the  future,  did  not  transpire.  Enough 
that  the  escapade  of  a  week  was  tacitly  for 
gotten.  The  only  allusion  ever  made  to  the 
bridegroom's  peculiarities  was  drawn  from 
the  demure  lips  of  the  bride  herself  on  her 
installation  at  the  "  Blessed  Innocents." 

"  And  what,  little  one,  didst  thou  find  in 
me  to  admire  ?  "  Don  Jose  had  asked  ten 
derly. 

"  Oh,  you  seemed  to  be  so  much  like  that 
dear  old  Don  Quixote,  you  know,"  she  an 
swered  demurely. 

"  Don  Quixote,"  repeated  Don  Jose  with 
gentle  gravity.  "  But,  my  child,  that  was 
only  a  mere  fiction  —  a  romance,  of  one  Cer 
vantes.  Believe  me,  of  a  truth  there  never 
was  any  such  person  1 " 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 


t 

As  Mr.  Herbert  Bly  glanced  for  the  first 
time  at  the  house  which  was  to  be  his  future 
abode  in  San  Francisco,  he  was  somewhat 
startled.  In  that  early  period  of  feverish 
civic  improvement  the  street  before  it  had 
been  repeatedly  graded  and  lowered  until 
the  dwelling  —  originally  a  pioneer  suburban 
villa  perched  upon  a  slope  of  Telegraph  Hill 
—  now  stood  sixty  feet  above  the  sidewalk, 
superposed  like  some  Swiss  chalet  on  succes 
sive  galleries  built  in  the  sand-hill,  and  con 
nected  by  a  half-dozen  distinct  zigzag  flights 
of  wooden  staircase.  Stimulated,  however, 
by  the  thought  that  the  view  from  the  top 
would  be  a  fine  one,  and  that  existence  there 
would  have  all  the  quaint  originality  of  Rob 
inson  Crusoe's  tree-dwelling,  Mr.  Bly  began 
cheerfully  to  mount  the  steps.  It  should  be 
premised  that,  although  a  recently  appointed 
clerk  in  a  large  banking  house,  Mr.  Bly  was 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       139 

somewhat  youthful  and  imaginative,  and  re 
garded  the  ascent  as  part  of  that  "  Excel 
sior  "  climbing  pointed  out  by  a  great  poet  as 
a  praiseworthy  function  of  ambitious  youth. 
Reaching  at  last  the  level  of  the  veranda, 
he  turned  to  the  view.  The  distant  wooded 
shore  of  Contra  Costa,  the  tossing  white-caps 
and  dancing  sails  of  the  bay  between,  and 
the  foreground  at  his  feet  of  wharves  and 
piers,  with  their  reed-like  jungles  of  masts 
and  cordage,  made  up  a  bright,  if  somewhat 
material,  picture.  To  his  right  rose  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  historic  and  memorable  as  the  site 
of  the  old  semaphoric  telegraph,  the  tossing 
of  whose  gaunt  arms  formerly  thrilled  the 
citizens  with  tidings  from  the  sea.  Turning 
to  the  house,  he  recognized  the  prevail 
ing  style  of  light  cottage  architecture,  al 
though  incongruously  confined  to  narrow 
building  plots  and  the  civic  regularity  of  a 
precise  street  frontage.  Thus  a  dozen  other 
villas,  formerly  scattered  over  the  slope,  had 
been  laboriously  displaced  and  moved  to  the 
rigorous  parade  line  drawn  by  the  street  sur 
veyor,  no  matter  how  irregular  and  indepen 
dent  their  design  and  structure.  Happily, 
the  few  scrub -oaks  and  low  bushes  which 
formed  the  scant  vegetation  of  this  vast  sand 


140      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

dune  offered  no  obstacle  and  suggested  no 
incongruity.  Beside  the  house  before  which 
Mr.  Bly  now  stood,  a  prolific  Madeira  vine, 
quickened  by  the  six  months'  sunshine,  had 
alone  survived  the  displacement  of  its  foun 
dations,  and  in  its  untrimmed  luxuriance 
half  hid  the  upper  veranda  from  his  view. 

Still  glowing  with  his  exertion,  the  young 
man  rang  the  bell  and  was  admitted  into  a 
fair-sized  drawing-room,  whose  tasteful  and 
well-arranged  furniture  at  once  prepossessed 
him.  An  open  piano,  a  sheet  of  music  care 
lessly  left  on  the  stool,  a  novel  lying  face 
downwards  on  the  table  beside  a  skein  of 
silk,  and  the  distant  rustle  of  a  vanished 
skirt  through  an  inner  door,  gave  a  sugges 
tion  of  refined  domesticity  to  the  room  that 
touched  the  fancy  of  the  homeless  and  no 
madic  Bly.  He  was  still  enjoying,  in  half 
embarrassment,  that  vague  and  indescribable 
atmosphere  of  a  refined  woman's  habitual 
presence,  when  the  door  opened  and  the  mis 
tress  of  the  house  formally  presented  herself. 

She  was  a  faded  but  still  handsome  wo 
man.  Yet  she  wore  that  peculiar  long,  limp, 
formless  house-shawl  which  in  certain  phases 
of  Anglo-Saxon  spinster  and  widowhood  as 
sumes  the  functions  of  the  recluse's  veil  and 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      141 

announces  the  renunciation  of  worldly  vani 
ties  and  a  resigned  indifference  to  external 
feminine  contour.  The  most  audacious  mas 
culine  arm  would  shrink  from  clasping  that 
shapeless  void  in  which  the  flatness  of  ascet 
icism  or  the  heavings  of  passion  might  alike 
lie  buried.  She  had  also  in  some  mysterious 
way  imported  into  the  fresh  and  pleasant 
room  a  certain  bombaziny  shadow  of  the 
past,  and  a  suggestion  of  that  appalling  rem 
iniscence  known  as  "  better  days."  Though 
why  it  should  be  always  represented  by  ashen 
memories,  or  why  better  days  in  the  past 
should  be  supposed  to  fix  their  fitting  symbol 
in  depression  in  the  present,  Mr.  Bly  was  too 
young  and  too  preoccupied  at  the  moment  to 
determine.  He  only  knew  that  he  was  a  lit 
tle  frightened  of  her,  and  fixed  his  gaze  with 
a  hopeless  fascination  on  a  letter  which  she 
somewhat  portentously  carried  under  the 
shawl,  and  which  seemed  already  to  have 
yellowed  in  its  arctic  shade. 

"  Mr.  Carstone  has  written  to  me  that 
you  would  call,"  said  Mrs.  Brooks  with  lan 
guid  formality.  "  Mr.  Carstone  was  a  val 
ued  friend  of  my  late  husband,  and  I  suppose 
has  told  you  the  circumstances  —  the  only 
circumstances  —  which  admit  of  my  enter- 


142      A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

taining  his  proposition  of  taking  anybody, 
even  temporarily,  under  my  roof.  The  ab 
sence  of  my  dear  son  for  six  months  at  Port 
land,  Oregon,  enables  me  to  place  his  room 
at  the  disposal  of  Mr.  Carstone's  young  pro 
tege,  who,  Mr.  Carstone  tells  me,  and  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe,  is,  if  perhaps  not  so 
seriously  inclined  nor  yet  a  church  commu 
nicant,  still  of  a  character  and  reputation 
not  unworthy  to  follow  my  dear  Tappington 
in  our  little  family  circle  as  he  has  at  his 
desk  in  the  bank." 

The  sensitive  Ely,  struggling  painfully  out 
of  an  abstraction  as  to  how  he  was  ever  to 
offer  the  weekly  rent  of  his  lodgings  to  such 
a  remote  and  respectable  person,  and  also 
somewhat  embarrassed  at  being  appealed  to 
in  the  third  person,  here  started  and  bowed. 

"  The  name  of  Bly  is  not  unfamiliar  to 
me,"  continued  Mrs.  Brooks,  pointing  to  a 
chair  and  sinking  resignedly  into  another, 
where  her  baleful  shawl  at  once  assumed  the 
appearance  of  a  dust-cover ;  "  some  of  my 
dearest  friends  were  intimate  with  the  Blys 
of  Philadelphia.  They  were  a  branch  of 
the  Maryland  Blys  of  the  eastern  shore,  one 
of  whom  my  Uncle  James  married.  Per 
haps  you  are  distantly  related  ?  " 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      143 

Mrs.  Brooks  was  perfectly  aware  that  her 
visitor  was  of  unknown  Western  origin,  and 
a  poor  but  clever  protege  of  the  rich  banker  ; 
but  she  was  one  of  a  certain  class  of  Amer 
ican  women  who,  in  the  midst  of  a  fierce 
democracy,  are  more  or  less  cat-like  conser 
vators  of  family  pride  and  lineage,  and  more 
or  less  felinely  inconsistent  and  treacherous 
to  republican  principles.  Bly,  who  had  just 
settled  in  his  mind  to  send  her  the  rent 
anonymously  —  as  a  weekly  valentine — re 
covered  himself  and  his  spirits  in  his  usual 
boyish  fashion. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Brooks,"  he  said  gayly, 
"I  cannot  lay  claim  to  any  distinguished 
relationship,  even  to  that  fr  Nelly  Bly '  who, 
you  remember,  '  winked  her  eye  when  she 
went  to  sleep/  '  He  stopped  in  consterna 
tion.  The  terrible  conviction  flashed  upon 
him  that  this  quotation  from  a  popular 
negro-minstrel  song  could  not  possibly  be  re 
membered  by  a  lady  as  refined  as  his  host 
ess,  or  even  known  to  her  superior  son.  The 
conviction  was  intensified  by  Mrs.  Brooks 
rising  with  a  smileless  face,  slightly  shedding 
the  possible  vulgarity  with  a  shake  of  her 
shawl,  and  remarking  that  she  would  show 
him  her  son's  room,  led  the  way  upstairs  to 


144   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

the  apartment  recently  vacated  by  the  per 
fect  Tappington. 

Preceded  by  the  same  distant  flutter  of 
unseen  skirts  in  the  passage  which  he  had 
first  noticed  on  entering  the  drawing-room, 
and  which  evidently  did  not  proceed  from 
his  companion,  whose  self-composed  cere 
ments  would  have  repressed  any  such  in 
decorous  agitation,  Mr.  Ely  stepped  timidly 
into  the  room.  It  was  a  very  pretty  apart 
ment,  suggesting  the  same  touches  of  taste 
ful  refinement  in  its  furniture  and  appoint 
ments,  and  withal  so  feminine  in  its  neat 
ness  and  regularity,  that,  conscious  of  his 
frontier  habits  and  experience,  he  felt  at 
once  repulsively  incongruous.  "  I  cannot 
expect,  Mr.  Bly,"  said  Mrs.  Brooks  resign 
edly,  "  that  you  can  share  my  son's  extreme 
sensitiveness  to  disorder  and  irregularity; 
but  I  must  beg  you  to  avoid  as  much  as 
possible  disturbing  the  arrangement  of  the 
book-shelves,  which,  you  observe,  comprise 
his  books  of  serious  reference,  the  Biblical 
commentaries,  and  the  sermons  which  were 
his  habitual  study.  I  must  beg  you  to  exer 
cise  the  same  care  in  reference  to  the  valua 
ble  offerings  from  his  Sabbath-school  scholars 
which  are  upon  the  mantel.  The  embroi- 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      145 

dered  book-marker,  the  gift  of  the  young  la 
dies  of  his  Bible-class  in  Dr,.  Stout's  church, 
is  also,  you  perceive,  kept  for  ornament  and 
affectionate  remembrance.  The  harmonium 
—  even  if  you  are  not  yourself  given  to  sa 
cred  song  —  I  trust  you  will  not  find  in  your 
way,  nor  object  to  my  daughter  continuing 
her  practice  during  your  daily  absence. 
Thank  you.  The  door  you  are  looking  at 
leads  by  a  flight  of  steps  to  the  side  street." 

"A  very  convenient  arrangement,"  said 
Ely  hopefully,  who  saw  a  chance  for  an 
occasional  unostentatious  escape  from  a  too 
protracted  contemplation  of  Tappington's 
perfections.  "  I  mean,"  he  added  hurriedly, 
"  to  avoid  disturbing  you  at  night." 

"  I  believe  my  son  had  neither  the  neces 
sity  nor  desire  to  use  it  for  that  purpose," 
returned  Mrs,  Brooks  severely;  "although 
he  found  it  sometimes  a  convenient  short  cut 
to  church  on  Sabbath  when  he  was  late." 

Bly,  who  in  his  boyish  sensitiveness  to 
external  impressions  had  by  this  time  con 
cluded  that  a  life  divided  between  the  past 
perfections  of  Tappington  and  the  present 
renunciations  of  Mrs.  Brooks  would  be  in 
tolerable,  and  was  again  abstractedly  invent 
ing  some  delicate  excuse  for  withdrawing 


146   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

without  committing  himself  further,  was  here 
suddenly  attracted  by  a  repetition  of  the 
rustling  of  the  unseen  skirt.  This  time  it 
was  nearer,  and  this  time  it  seemed  to  strike 
even  Mrs.  Brooks's  remote  preoccupation. 
"  My  daughter,  who  is  deeply  devoted  to  her 
brother,"  she  said,  slightly  raising  her  voice, 
"  will  take  upon  herself  the  care  of  looking 
after  Tappington's  precious  mementoes,  and 
spare  you  the  trouble.  Cherry,  dear !  this 
way.  This  is  the  young  gentleman  spoken 
of  by  Mr.  Carstone,  your  papa's  friend.  My 
daughter  Cherubina,  Mr.  Ely." 

The  fair  owner  of  the  rustling  skirt,  which 
turned  out  to  be  a  pretty  French  print,  had 
appeared  at  the  doorway.  She  was  a  tall, 
slim  blonde,  with  a  shy,  startled  manner,  as 
of  a  penitent  nun  who  was  suffering  for  some 
conventual  transgression  —  a  resemblance 
that  was  heightened  by  her  short-cut  hair, 
that  might  have  been  cropped  as  if  for  pun 
ishment.  A  certain  likeness  to  her  mother 
suggested  that  she  was  qualifying  for  that 
saint's  ascetic  shawl  —  subject,  however,  to 
rebellious  intervals,  indicated  in  the  occa 
sional  sidelong  fires  of  her  gray  eyes.  Yet 
the  vague  impression  that  she  knew  more  of 
the  world  than  her  mother,  and  that  she  did 


A  SECRET  OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL,      147 

not  look  at  all  as  if  her  name  was  Cherubina, 
struck  Bly  in  the  same  momentary  glance. 

"  Mr.  Bly  is  naturally  pleased  with  what 
he  has  seen  of  our  dear  Tappington's  ap 
pointments;  and  as  I  gather  from  Mr.  Car- 
stone's  letter  that  he  is  anxious  to  enter  at 
once  and  make  the  most  of  the  dear  boy's 
absence,  you  will  see,  my  dear  Cherry,  that 
Ellen  has  everything  ready  for  him  ?  " 

Before  the  unfortunate  Bly  could  explain 
or  protest,  the  young  girl  lifted  her  gray 
eyes  to  his.  Whether  she  had  percei  ved  and 
understood  his  perplexity  he  could  not  tell ; 
but  the  swift  shy  glance  was  at  once  appeal 
ing,  assuring,  and  intelligent.  She  was  cer 
tainly  unlike  her  mother  and  brother.  Act 
ing  with  his  usual  impulsiveness,  he  forgot 
his  previous  resolution,  and  before  he  left 
had  engaged  to  begin  his  occupation  of  the 
room  on  the  following  day. 

The  next  afternoon  found  him  installed. 
Yet,  after  he  had  unpacked  his  modest  pos 
sessions  and  put  them  away,  after  he  had 
placed  his  few  books  on  the  shelves,  where 
they  looked  glaringly  trivial  and  frivolous 
beside  the  late  tenant's  severe  studies ;  after 
he  had  set  out  his  scanty  treasures  in  the 
way  of  photographs  and  some  curious  me- 


148   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  BILL. 

mentoes  of  his  wandering  life,  and  then 
quickly  put  them  back  again  with  a  sudden 
angry  pride  at  exposing  them  to  the  unsym 
pathetic  incongruity  of  the  other  ornaments, 
he,  nevertheless,  felt  ill  at  ease.  He  glanced 
in  vain  around  the  pretty  room.  It  was  not 
the  delicately  flowered  wall-paper;  it  was 
not  the  white  and  blue  muslin  window-cur 
tains  gracefully  tied  up  with  blue  and  white 
ribbons ;  it  was  not  the  spotless  bed,  with  its 
blue  and  white  festooned  mosquito-net  and 
flounced  valances,  and  its  medallion  portrait 
of  an  unknown  bishop  at  the  back ;  it  was 
not  the  few  tastefully  framed  engravings  of 
certain  cardinal  virtues,  "  The  Rock  of 
Ages,"  and  "  The  Guardian  Angel "  ;  it  was 
not  the  casts  in  relief  of  "  Night "  and 
"  Morning  "  ;  it  was  certainly  not  the  cosy 
dimity-covered  arm-chairs  and  sofa,  nor  yet 
the  clean-swept  polished  grate  with  its  cheer 
ful  fire  sparkling  against  the  chill  afternoon 
sea-fogs  without ;  neither  was  it  the  mere 
feminine  suggestion,  for  that  touched  a  sym 
pathetic  chord  in  his  impulsive  nature ;  nor 
the  religious  and  ascetic  influence,  for  he 
had  occupied  a  monastic  cell  in  a  school  of 
the  padres  at  an  old  mission,  and  slept  pro 
foundly  ;  —  it  was  none  of  those,  and  yet  a 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       149 

part  of  all.  Most  habitations  retain  a  cast 
or  shell  of  their  previous  tenant  that,  fitting 
tightly  or  loosely,  is  still  able  to  adjust  itself 
to  the  newcomer ;  in  most  occupied  apart 
ments  there  is  still  a  shadowy  suggestion  of 
the  owner's  individuality ;  there  was  nothing 
here  that  fitted  Bly  —  nor  was  there  either, 
strange  to  say,  any  evidence  of  the  past  pro 
prietor  in  this  inhospitality  of  sensation.  It 
did  not  strike  him  at  the  time  that  it  was 
this  very  lack  of  individuality  which  made  it 
weird  and  unreal,  that  it  was  strange  only 
because  it  was  artificial,  and  that  a  real 
Tappington  had  never  inhabited  it. 

He  walked  to  the  window  —  that  never- 
failing  resource  of  the  unquiet  mind  —  and 
looked  out.  He  was  a  little  surprised  to 
find,  that,  owing  to  the  grading  of  the  house, 
the  scrub-oaks  and  bushes  of  the  hill  were 
nearly  on  the  level  of  his  window,  as  also 
was  the  adjoining  side  street  on  which  his 
second  door  actually  gave.  Opening,  this, 
the  sudden  invasion  of  the  sea-fog  and  the 
figure  of  a  pedestrian  casually  passing  along 
the  disused  and  abandoned  pavement  not  a 
dozen  feet  from  where  he  had  been  comfort 
ably  seated,  presented  such  a  striking  con 
trast  to  the  studious  quiet  and  cosiness  of  his 


150       A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

secluded  apartment  that  he  hurriedly  closed 
the  door  again  with  a  sense  of  indiscreet  ex 
posure.  Returning  to  the  window,  he  glanced 
to  the  left,  and  found  that  he  was  over 
looked  by  the  side  veranda  of  another  villa 
in  the  rear,  evidently  on  its  way  to  take  po 
sition  on  the  line  of  the  street.  Although 
in  actual  and  deliberate  transit  on  rollers 
across  the  backyard  and  still  occulting  a  part 
of  the  view,  it  remained,  after  the  reckless 
fashion  of  the  period,  inhabited.  Certainly, 
with  a  door  fronting  a  thoroughfare,  and  a 
neighbor  gradually  approaching  him,  he 
would  not  feel  lonely  or  lack  excitement. 

He  drew  his  arm-chair  to  the  fire  and 
tried  to  realize  the  all-pervading  yet  evasive 
Tappington.  There  was  no  portrait  of  him 
in  the  house,  and  although  Mrs.  Brooks  had 
said  that  he  "favored"  his  sister,  Ely  had, 
without  knowing  why,  instinctively  resented 
it.  He  had  even  timidly  asked  his  em 
ployer,  and  had  received  the  vague  reply 
that  he  was  "  good-looking  enough,"  and  the 
practical  but  discomposing  retort,  "  What 
do  you  want  to  know  for?"  As  he  really 
did  not  know  why,  the  inquiry  had  dropped. 
He  stared  at  the  monumental  crystal  ink 
stand  half  full  of  ink,  yet  spotless  and  free 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       151 

from  stains,  that  stood  on  the  table,  and 
tried  to  picture  Tappington  daintily  dipping 
into  it  to  thank  the  fair  donors  —  "  daugh 
ters  of  Rebecca."  Who  were  they  ?  and  what 
sort  of  man  would  they  naturally  feel  grate 
ful  to? 

What  was  that? 

He  turned  to  the  window,  which  had  just 
resounded  to  a  slight  tap  or  blow,  as  if  some 
thing  soft  had  struck  it.  With  an  instinc 
tive  suspicion  of  the  propinquity  of  the  ad 
joining  street  he  rose,  but  a  single  glance 
from  the  window  satisfied  him  that  no  mis 
sile  would  have  reached  it  from  thence.  He 
scanned  the  low  bushes  on  the  level  before 
him  ;  certainly  no  one  could  be  hiding  there. 
He  lifted  his  eyes  toward  the  house  on  the 
left ;  the  curtains  of  the  nearest  window 
appeared  to  be  drawn  suddenly  at  the  same 
moment.  Could  it  have  come  from  there  ? 
Looking  down  upon  the  window-ledge,  there 
lay  the  mysterious  missile  —  a  little  missha 
pen  ball.  He  opened  the  window  and  took 
it  up.  It  was  a  small  handkerchief  tied  into 
a  soft  knot,  and  dampened  with  water  to  give 
it  the  necessary  weight  as  a  projectile. 

W^as  it  apparently  the  trick  of  a  mischiev 
ous  child  ?  or  — 


152       A  SECRET    OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

But  here  a  faint  knock  on  the  door  lead 
ing  into  the  hall  checked  his  inquiry.  He 
opened  it  sharply  in  his  excitement,  and  was 
embarrassed  to  find  the  daughter  of  his  hos 
tess  standing  there,  shy,  startled,  and  evi 
dently  equally  embarrassed  by  his  abrupt 
response. 

"  Mother  only  wanted  me  to  ask  you  if 
Ellen  had  put  everything  to  rights,"  she  said, 
making  a  step  backwards. 

"  Oh,  thank  you.  Perfectly,"  said  Her 
bert  with  effusion.  "  Nothing  could  be 
better  done.  In  fact"  — 

"  You  're  quite  sure  she  has  n't  forgotten 
anything  ?  or  that  there  is  n't  anything  you 
would  like  changed  ? "  she  continued,  with 
her  eyes  leveled  on  the  floor. 

"  Nothing,  I  assure  you,"  he  said,  looking 
at  her  downcast  lashes.  As  she  still  re 
mained  motionless,  he  continued  cheerfully, 
"Would  you  —  would  you — care  to  look 
round  and  see  ?  " 

"  No ;  I  thank  you." 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  He  still 
continued  to  hold  the  door  open.  Suddenly 
she  moved  forward  with  a  school-girl  stride, 
entered  the  room,  and  going  to  the  harmo 
nium,  sat  down  upon  the  music-stool  beside 


A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       153 

it,  slightly  bending  forward,  with  one  long, 
slim,  white  hand  on  top  of  the  other,  resting 
over  her  crossed  knees. 

Herbert  was  a  little  puzzled.  It  was  the 
awkward  and  brusque  act  of  a  very  young 
person,  and  yet  nothing  now  could  be  more 
gentle  and  self -composed  than  her  figure  and 
attitude.  ' 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  smilingly;  "I  am 
only  afraid  that  I  may  not  be  able  to  live 
quite  up  to  the  neatness  and  regularity  of 
the  example  I  find  here  everywhere.  You 
know  I  am  dreadfully  careless  and  not  at  all 
orderly.  I  shudder  to  think  what  may  hap 
pen  ;  but  you  and  your  mother,  Miss  Brooks, 
I  trust,  will  make  up  your  minds  to  overlook 
and  forgive  a  good  deal.  I  shall  do  my  best 
to  be  worthy  of  Mr.  Tap — of  my  prede 
cessor  —  but  even  then  I  am  afraid  you  '11 
find  me  a  great  bother." 

She  raised  her  shy  eyelids.  The  faintest 
ghost  of  a  long-buried  dimple  came  into  her 
pale  cheek  as  she  said  softly,  to  his  utter 
consternation : 

"  Eats !  " 

Had  she  uttered  an  oath  he  could  not  have 
been  more  startled  than  he  was  by  this 
choice  gem  of  Western  saloon-slang  from  the 


154      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

pure  lips  of  this  Evangeline-like  figure  be 
fore  him.  He  sat  gazing  at  her  with  a  wild 
hysteric  desire  to  laugh.  She  lifted  her 
eyes  again,  swept  him  with  a  slightly  terri 
fied  glance,  and  said : 

"  Tap  says  you  all  say  that  when  any  one 
makes-believe  politeness  to  you." 

"  Oh,  your  brother  says  that,  does  he  ?  " 
said  Herbert,  laughing. 

"  Yes,  and  sometimes  '  Old  rats.'  But," 
she  continued  hurriedly,  "  he  does  n't  say  it ; 
he  says  you  all  do.  My  brother  is  very 
particular,  and  very  good.  Doctor  Stout 
loves  him.  He  is  thought  very  much  of  in 
all  Christian  circles.  That  book-mark  was 
given  to  him  by  one  of  his  classes." 

Every  trace  of  her  dimples  had  vanished. 
She  looked  so  sweetly  grave,  and  withal  so 
maidenly,  sitting  there  slightly  smoothing 
the  lengths  of  her  pink  fingers,  that  Herbert 
was  somewhat  embarrassed. 

"  But  I  assure  you,  Miss  Brooks,  I  was 
not  making-believe.  I  am  really  very  care 
less,  and  everything  is  so  proper  —  I  mean 
so  neat  and  pretty  —  here,  that  I "  —  he 
stopped,  and,  observing  the  same  backward 
wandering  of  her  eye  as  of  a  filly  about  to 
shy,  quickly  changed  the  subject.  "  You 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       155 

have,  or  are  about  to  have,  neighbors  ?  "  he 
said,  glancing  towards  the  windows  as  he 
recalled  the  incident  of  a  moment  before. 

"  Yes  ;  and  they  're  not  at  all  nice  people. 
They  are  from  Pike  County,  and  very  queer. 
They  came  across  the  plains  in  '50.  They 
say  '  Stranger  ' ;  the  men  are  vulgar,  and 
the  girls  very  forward.  Tap  forbids  my 
ever  going  to  the  window  and  looking  at 
them.  They  're  quite  what  you  would  call 
« off  color.'  " 

Herbert,  who  did  not  dare  to  say  that  he 
never  would  have  dreamed  of  using  such  an 
expression  in  any  young  girl's  presence,  was 
plunged  in  silent  consternation. 

"  Then  your  brother  does  n't  approve  of 
them  ?  "  he  said,  at  last,  awkwardly. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  He  even  talked  of  hav 
ing  ground-glass  put  in  all  these  windows, 
only  it  would  make  the  light  bad." 

Herbert  felt  very  embarrassed.  If  the 
mysterious  missile  came  from  these  objec 
tionable  young  persons,  it  was  evidently  be 
cause  they  thought  they  had  detected  a  more 
accessible  and  sympathizing  individual  in  the 
stranger  who  now  occupied  the  room.  He 
concluded  he  had  better  not  say  anything 
about  it. 


156       A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

Miss  Brooks's  golden  eyelashes  were  bent 
towards  the  floor.  "  Do  you  play  sacred 
music,  Mr.  Ely  ?  "  she  said,  without  raising 
them. 

"  I  am  afraid  not." 

"Perhaps  you  know  only  negro-minstrel 
songs?" 

"  I  am  afraid  —  yes." 

"  I  know  one."  The  dimples  faintly  came 
back  again.  "  It 's  called  4  The  Ham-fat 
Man.'  Some  day  when  mother  is  n't  in  I  '11 
play  it  for  you." 

Then  the  dimples  fled  again,  and  she  im 
mediately  looked  so  distressed  that  Herbert 
came  to  her  assistance. 

"  I  suppose  your  brother  taught  you  that 
too?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no !  "  she  returned,  with  her 
frightened  glance  ;  "  I  only  heard  him  say 
some  people  preferred  that  kind  of  thing  to 
sacred  music,  and  one  day  I  saw  a  copy  of 
it  in  a  music-store  window  in  Clay  Street, 
and  bought  it.  Oh  no  !  Tappington  did  n't 
teach  it  to  me." 

In  the  pleasant  discovery  that  she  was  at 
times  independent  of  her  brother's  perfec 
tions,  Herbert  smiled,  and  sympathetically 
drew  a  step  nearer  to  her.  She  rose  at  once, 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.   157 

somewhat  primly  holding  back  the  sides  of 
her  skirt,  school-girl  fashion,  with  thumb  and 
finger,  and  her  eyes  cast  down. 
"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Ely." 
"  Must  you  go  ?     Good  afternoon." 
She  walked   directly   to  the   open   door, 
looking  very  tall  and  stately  as  she  did  so, 
but  without   turning  towards  him.     When 
she  reached  it  she  lifted  her  eyes ;  there  was 
the  slightest  suggestion  of  a  return  of  her 
dimples  in  the  relaxation  of  her  grave  little 
mouth.      Then    she    said,    "Good-bye,   Mr. 
Ely,"  and  departed. 

The  skirt  of  her  dress  rustled  for  an  in 
stant  in  the  passage.  Herbert  looked  after 
her.  "  I  wonder  if  she  skipped  then  —  she 
looks  like  a  girl  that  might  skip  at  such  a 
time,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  How  very  odd 
she  is  —  and  how  simple  !  But  I  must  pull 
her  up  in  that  slang  when  I  know  her  better. 
Fancy  her  brother  telling  her  that  !  What 
a  pair  they  must  be  !  "  Nevertheless,  when 
he  turned  back  into  the  room  again  he  for 
bore  going  to  the  window  to  indulge  further 
curiosity  in  regard  to  his  wicked  neighbors. 
A  certain  new  feeling  of  respect  to  his  late 
companion  —  and  possibly  to  himself  —  held 
him  in  check.  Much  as  he  resented  Tap- 


158      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

pington's  perfections,  he  resented  quite  as 
warmly  the  presumption  that  he  was  not 
quite  as  perfect,  which  was  implied  in  that 
mysterious  overture.  He  glanced  at  the 
stool  on  which  she  had  been  sitting  with  a 
half -brotherly  smile,  and  put  it  reverently  on 
one  side  with  a  very  vivid  recollection  of  her 
shy  maidenly  figure.  In  some  mysterious 
way  too  the  room  seemed  to  have  lost  its 
formal  strangeness ;  perhaps  it  was  the 
touch  of  individuality  —  hers  —  that  had 
been  wanting  ?  He  began  thoughtfully  to 
dress  himself  for  his  regular  dinner  at  the 
Poodle  Dog  Restaurant,  and  when  he  left 
the  room  he  turned  back  to  look  once  more 
at  the  stool  where  she  had  sat.  Even  on  his 
way  to  that  fast  and  famous  cafe  of  the 
period  he  felt,  for  the  first  time  in  his  thought 
less  but  lonely  life,  the  gentle  security  of  the 
home  he  had  left  behind  him. 


II. 

IT  was  three  or  four  days  before  he  be 
came  firmly  adjusted  to  his  new  quarters. 
During  this  time  he  had  met  Cherry  casu 
ally  on  the  staircase,  in  going  or  coming,  and 
received  her  shy  greetings ;  but  she  had  not 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      159 

repeated  her  visit,  nor  again  alluded  to  it. 
He  had  spent  part  of  a  formal  evening  in 
the  parlor  in  company  with  a  calling  deacon, 
who,  unappalled  by  the  Indian  shawl  for 
which  the  widow  had  exchanged  her  house 
hold  cerements  on  such  occasions,  appeared 
to  Herbert  to  have  remote  matrimonial  de 
signs,  as  far  at  least  as  a  sympathetic  depre 
cation  of  the  vanities  of  the  present,  an 
echoing  of  her  sighs  like  a  modest  encore,  a 
preternatural  gentility  of  manner,  a  vague 
allusion  to  the  necessity  of  bearing  "  one  an 
other's  burdens,"  and  an  everlasting  "prom 
ise  "  in  store,  would  seem  to  imply.  To 
Herbert's  vivid  imagination,  a  discussion  on 
the  doctrinal  points  of  last  Sabbath's  ser 
mon  was  fraught  with  delicate  suggestion  ; 
and  an  acceptance  by  the  widow  of  an  ap 
pointment  to  attend  the  Wednesday  evening 
"  Lectures  "  had  all  the  shy  reluctant  yield 
ing  of  a  granted  rendezvous.  Oddly  enough, 
the  more  formal  attitude  seemed  to  be  re 
served  for  the  young  people,  who,  in  the  sug 
gestive  atmosphere  of  this  spiritual  flirta 
tion,  alone  appeared  to  preserve  the  propri 
eties  and,  to  some  extent,  decorously  chap 
eron  their  elders.  Herbert  gravely  turned 
the  leaves  of  Cherry's  music  while  she  played 


160       A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

and  sang  one  or  two  discreet  but  depressing 
songs  expressive  of  her  unalterable  but 
proper  devotion  to  her  mother's  clock,  her 
father's  arm-chair,  and  her  aunt's  Bible  ;  and 
Herbert  joined  somewhat  boyishly  in  the 
soul-subduing  refrain.  Only  once  he  ven 
tured  to  suggest  in  a  whisper  that  he  would 
like  to  add  Tier  music-stool  to  the  adorable 
inventory  ;  but  he  was  met  by  such  a  dis 
turbed  and  terrified  look  that  he  desisted, 
*' Another  night  of  this  wild  and  reckless 
dissipation  will  finish  me,"  he  said  lugubri 
ously  to  himself  when  he  reached  the  solitude 
of  his  room.  "  I  wonder  how  many  times  a 
week  I  'd  have  to  help  the  girl  play  the  spir 
itual  gooseberry  downstairs  before  we  could 
have  any  fun  ourselves  ?  " 

Here  the  sound  of  distant  laughter,  inter 
spersed  with  vivacious  feminine  shrieks, 
eame  through  the  open  window.  He  glanced 
between  the  curtains.  His  neighbor's  house 
was  brilliantly  lit,  and  the  shadows  of  a  few 
romping  figures  were  chasing  each  other 
across  the  muslin  shades  of  the  windows.  The 
objectionable  young  women  were  evidently 
enjoying  themselves.  In  some  conditions  of 
the  mind  there  is  a  certain  exasperation  in 
the  spectacle  of  unmeaning  enjoyment,  and 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.   161 

he  shut  the  window  sharply.  At  the  same 
moment  some  one  knocked  at  his  door. 

It  was  Miss  Brooks,  who  had  just  come 
upstairs. 

"  Will  you  please  let  me  have  my  music- 
stool?" 

He  stared  at  her  a  moment  in  surprise, 
then  recovering  himself,  said,  "  Yes,  cer 
tainly,"  and  brought  the  stool.  For  an  in 
stant  he  was  tempted  to  ask  why  she  wanted 
it,  but  his  pride  forbade  him. 

"  Thank  you.     Good-night." 

"  Good-night !  " 

"  I  hope  it  was  n't  in  your  way  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all." 

"  Good-night ! " 

"  Good-night." 

She  vanished.  Herbert  was  perplexed. 
Between  young  ladies  whose  nai've  exuber 
ance  impelled  them  to  throw  handkerchiefs 
at  his  window  and  young  ladies  whose  equally 
nai've  modesty  demanded  the  withdrawal 
from  his  bedroom  of  a  chair  on  which  they 
had  once  sat,  his  lot  seemed  to  have  fallen 
in  a  troubled  locality.  Yet  a  day  or  two 
later  he  heard  Cherry  practising  on  the  har 
monium  as  he  was  ascending  the  stairs  on 
his  return  from  business ;  she  had  departed 


162   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

before  he  entered  the  room,  but  had  left  the 
music-stool  behind  her.  It  was  not  again 
removed. 

One  Sunday,  the  second  or  third  of  his 
tenancy,  when  Cherry  and  her  mother  were 
at  church,  and  he  had  finished  some  work 
that  he  had  brought  from  the  bank,  his  for 
mer  restlessness  and  sense  of  strangeness 
returned.  The  regular  afternoon  fog  had 
thickened  early,  and,  driving  him  back  from 
a  cheerless,  chilly  ramble  on  the  hill,  had  left 
him  still  more  depressed  and  solitary.  In 
sheer  desperation  he  moved  some  of  the  fur 
niture,  and  changed  the  disposition  of  sev 
eral  smaller  ornaments.  Growing  bolder,  he 
even  attacked  the  sacred  shelf  devoted  to 
Tappington's  serious  literature  and  moral 
studies.  At  first  glance  the  book  of  sermons 
looked  suspiciously  fresh  and  new  for  a  vol 
ume  of  habitual  reference,  but  its  leaves 
were  carefully  cut,  and  contained  one  or  two 
book-marks.  It  was  only  another  evidence 
of  that  perfect  youth's  care  and  neatness. 
As  he  was  replacing  it  he  noticed  a  small 
object  folded  in  white  paper  at  the  back 
of  the  shelf.  To  put  the  book  back  into 
its  former  position  it  was  necessary  to  take 
this  out.  He  did  so,  but  its  contents  slid 


A  SECRET  OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.      163 

from  his  fingers  and  the  paper  to  the  floor. 
To  his  utter  consternation,  looking  down  he 
saw  a  pack  of  playing-cards  strewn  at  his 
feet! 

He  hurriedly  picked  them  up.  They  were 
worn  and  slippery  from  use,  and  exhaled  a 
faint  odor  of  tobacco.  Had  they  been  left 
there  by  some  temporary  visitor  unknown  to 
Tappington  and  his  family,  or  had  they  been 
hastily  hidden  by  a  servant  ?  Yet  they  were 
of  a  make  and  texture  superior  to  those  that 
a  servant  would  possess  ;  looking  at  them 
carefully,  he  recognized  them  to  be  of  a  qual 
ity  used  by  the  better-class  gamblers.  Re 
storing  them  carefully  to  their  former  posi 
tion,  he  was  tempted  to  take  out  the  other 
volumes,  and  was  rewarded  with  the  further 
discovery  of  a  small  box  of  ivory  counters, 
known  as  "  poker-chips."  It  was  really 
very  extraordinary  !  It  was  quite  the  cache 
of  some  habitual  gambler.  Herbert  smiled 
grimly  at  the  irreverent  incongruity  of  the 
hiding-place  selected  by  its  unknown  and 
mysterious  owner,  and  amused  himself  by 
fancying  the  horror  of  his  sainted  predeces 
sor  had  he  made  the  discovery.  He  deter 
mined  to  replace  them,  and  to  put  some  mark 
upon  the  volumes  before  them  in  order  to 


164      A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

detect  any  future  disturbance  of  them  in  his 
absence. 

Ought  he  not  to  take  Miss  Brooks  in  his 
confidence  ?  Or  should  he  say  nothing  about 
it  at  present,  and  trust  to  chance  to  dis 
cover  the  sacrilegious  hider  ?  Could  it  pos 
sibly  be  Cherry  herself,  guilty  of  the  same 
innocent  curiosity  that  had  impelled  her  to 
buy  the  "  Ham-fat  Man  "  ?  Preposterous  ! 
Besides,  the  cards  had  been  used,  and  she 
could  not  play  poker  alone ! 

He  watched  the  rolling  fog  extinguish  the 
line  of  Russian  Hill,  the  last  bit  of  far 
perspective  from  his  window.  He  glanced 
at  his  neighbor's  veranda,  already  dripping 
with  moisture  ;  the  windows  were  blank  ;  he 
remembered  to  have  heard  the  girls  giggling 
in  passing  down  the  side  street  on  their  way 
to  church,  and  had  noticed  from  behind  his 
own  curtains  that  one  was  rather  pretty. 
This  led  him  to  think  of  Cherry  again,  and 
to  recall  the  quaint  yet  melancholy  grace  of 
her  figure  as  she  sat  on  the  stool  opposite. 
Why  had  she  withdrawn  it  so  abruptly  ;  did 
she  consider  his  jesting  allusion  to  it  in 
decorous  and  presuming?  Had  he  really 
meant  it  seriously  ;  and  was  he  beginning 
to  think  too  much  about  her  ?  Would  she 


A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.      165 

ever  come  again  ?  How  nice  it  would  be  if 
she  returned  from  church  alone  early,  and 
they  could  have  a  comfortable  chat  together 
here  !  Would  she  sing  the  "  Ham-fat  Man  " 
for  him  ?  Would  the  dimples  come  back  if 
she  did  ?  Should  he  ever  know  more  of  this 
quaint  repressed  side  of  her  nature  ?  After 
all,  what  a  dear,  graceful,  tantalizing,  lova 
ble  creature  she  was  !  Ought  he  not  at  all 
hazards  try  to  know  her  better  ?  Might  it 
not  be  here  that  he  would  find  a  perfect  real 
ization  of  his  boyish  dreams,  and  in  her  all 
that  —  what  nonsense  he  was  thinking  ! 

Suddenly  Herbert  was  startled  by  the 
sound  of  a  light  but  hurried  foot  upon  the 
wooden  outer  step  of  his  second  door,  and 
the  quick  but  ineffective  turning  of  the  door 
handle.  He  started  to  his  feet,  his  mind  still 
filled  with  a  vision  of  Cherry.  Then  he  as 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  locked  the 
door  on  going  out,  putting  the  key  in  his 
overcoat  pocket.  He  had  returned  by  the 
front  door,  and  his  overcoat  was  now  hang 
ing  in  the  lower  hall. 

The  door  again  rattled  impetuously.  Then 
it  was  supplemented  by  a  female  voice  in  a 
hurried  whisper  :  "  Open  quick,  can't  you  ? 
do  hurry !  " 


166      A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

He  was  confounded.  The  voice  was  au 
thoritative,  not  unmusical ;  but  it  was  not 
Cherry's.  Nevertheless  he  called  out  quickly, 
"  One  moment,  please,  and  I  '11  get  the  key !  " 
dashed  downstairs  and  up  again,  breathlessly 
unlocked  the  door  and  threw  it  open. 

Nobody  was  there  ! 

He  ran  out  into  the  street.  On  one  side 
it  terminated  abruptly  on  the  cliff  on  which 
his  dwelling  was  perched  ;  on  the  other,  it 
descended  more  gradually  into  the  next 
thoroughfare  ;  but  up  and  down  the  street, 
on  either  hand,  no  one  was  to  be  seen.  A 
slightly  superstitious  feeling  for  an  instant 
crept  over  him.  Then  he  reflected  that  the 
mysterious  visitor  could  in  the  interval  of 
his  getting  the  key  have  easily  slipped  down 
the  steps  of  the  cliff  or  entered  the  shrub 
bery  of  one  of  the  adjacent  houses.  But  why 
had  she  not  waited?  And  what  did  she 
want?  As  he  reentered  his  door  he  mechan 
ically  raised  his  eyes  to  the  windows  of  his 
neighbor's.  This  time  he  certainly  was  not 
mistaken.  The  two  amused,  mischievous 
faces  that  suddenly  disappeared  behind  the 
curtain  as  he  looked  up  showed  that  the  inci 
dent  had  not  been  unwitnessed.  Yet  it  was 
impossible  that  it  could  have  been  either  of 


A  SECRET  OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.      167 

them.  Their  house  was  only  accessible  by  a 
long  detour.  It  might  have  been  the  trick 
of  a  confederate ;  but  the  tone  of  half  famil 
iarity  and  half  entreaty  in  the  unseen  visit 
or's  voice  dispelled  the  idea  of  any  collusion. 
He  entered  the  room  and  closed  the  door 
angrily.  A  grim  smile  stole  over  his  face  as 
he  glanced  around  at  the  dainty  saint-like 
appointments  of  the  absent  Tappington,  and 
thought  what  that  irreproachable  young  man 
would  have  said  to  the  indecorous  intrusion, 
even  though  it  had  been  a  mistake.  Would 
those  shameless  Pike  County  girls  have 
dared  to  laugh  at  him  ? 

But  he  was  again  puzzled  to  know  why  he 
himself  should  have  been  selected  for  this 
singular  experience.  Why  was  he  consid 
ered  fair  game  for  these  girls?  And,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  now  that  he  reflected 
upon  it,  why  had  even  this  gentle,  refined, 
and  melancholy  Cherry  thought  it  necessary 
to  talk  slang  to  him  on  their  first  acquaint 
ance,  and  offer  to  sing  him  the  "  Ham-fat 
Man "  ?  It  was  true  he  had  been  a  little 
gay,  but  never  dissipated.  Of  course  he 
was  not  a  saint,  like  Tappington  —  oh,  that 
was  it !  He  believed  he  understood  it  now. 
He  was  suffering  from  that  extravagant  con- 


168      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

ception  of  what  worldliness  consists  of,  so 
common  to  very  good  people  with  no  knowl 
edge  of  the  world.  Compared  to  Tapping- 
ton  he  was  in  their  eyes,  of  course,  a  rake 
and  a  roue.  The  explanation  pleased  him. 
He  would  not  keep  it  to  himself.  He  would 
gain  Cherry's  confidence  and  enlist  her  sym 
pathies.  Her  gentle  nature  would  revolt  at 
this  injustice  to  their  lonely  lodger.  She 
would  see  that  there  were  degrees  of  good 
ness  besides  her  brother's.  She  would  per 
haps  sit  on  that  stool  again  and  not  sing  the 
"  Ham-fat  Man." 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  the  opportunity 
seemed  offered  to  him.  As  he  was  coming 
home  and  ascending  the  long  hilly  street,  his 
eye  was  taken  by  a  tall  graceful  figure  just 
preceding  him.  It  was  she.  He  had  never 
before  seen  her  in  the  street,  and  was  now 
struck  with  her  ladylike  bearing  and  the 
grave  superiority  of  her  perfectly  simple 
attire.  In  a  thoroughfare  haunted  by  hand 
some  women  and  striking  toilettes,  the  re 
fined  grace  of  her  mourning  costume,  and  a 
certain  stateliness  that  gave  her  the  look  of  a 
young  widow,  was  a  contrast  that  evidently 
attracted  others  than  himself.  It  was  with 
an  odd  mingling  of  pride  and  jealousy  that 


A   SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      169 

he  watched  the  admiring  yet  respectful 
glances  of  the  passers-by,  some  of  whom 
turned  to  look  again,  and  one  or  two  to  re 
trace  their  steps  and  follow  her  at  a  deco 
rous  distance.  This  caused  him  to  quicken 
his  own  pace,  with  a  new  anxiety  and  a  re 
morseful  sense  of  wasted  opportunity.  What 
a  booby  he  had  been,  not  to  have  made  more 
of  his  contiguity  to  this  charming  girl  —  to 
have  been  frightened  at  the  naive  decorum 
of  her  maidenly  instincts !  He  reached  her 
side,  and  raised  his  hat  with  a  trepidation  at 
her  new-found  graces  —  with  a  boldness  that 
was  defiant  of  her  other  admirers.  She 
blushed  slightly. 

"  I  thought  you  'd  overtake  me  before," 
she  said  naively.  "/  saw  you  ever  so  long 
ago." 

He  stammered,  with  an  equal  simplicity, 
that  he  had  not  dared  to. 

She  looked  a  little  frightened  again,  and 
then  said  hurriedly :  "I  only  thought  that 
I  would  meet  you  on  Montgomery  Street, 
and  we  would  walk  home  together.  I  don't 
like  to  go  out  alone,  and  mother  cannot  al 
ways  go  with  me.  Tappington  never  cared 
to  take  me  out  —  I  don't  know  why.  I  think 
he  did  n't  like  the  people  staring  and  stop- 


170   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

ping  us.  But  they  stare  more  —  don't  you 
think  ?  —  when  one  is  alone.  So  I  thought 
if  you  were  coming  straight  home  we  might 
come  together  —  unless  you  have  something 
else  to  do  ?  " 

Herbert  impulsively  reiterated  his  joy  at 
meeting  her,  and  averred  that  no  other  en 
gagement,  either  of  business  or  pleasure, 
could  or  would  stand  in  his  way.  Looking 
up,  however,  it  was  with  some  consternation 
that  he  saw  they  were  already  within  a  block 
of  the  house. 

"  Suppose  we  take  a  turn  around  the  hill 
and  come  back  by  the  old  street  down  the 
steps  ?  "  he  suggested  earnestly. 

The  next  moment  he  regretted  it.  The 
frightened  look  returned  to  her  eyes ;  her 
face  became  melancholy  and  formal  again. 

"  No !  "  she  said  quickly.  "  That  would 
be  taking  a  walk  with  you  like  these  young- 
girls  and  their  young  men  on  Saturdays. 
That 's  what  Ellen  does  with  the  butcher's 
boy  on  Sundays.  Tappington  often  used  to 
meet  them.  Doing  the  '  Come,  Philanders,' 
as  he  says  you  call  it." 

It  struck  Herbert  that  the  didactic  Tap- 
pington's  method  of  inculcating  a  horror  of 
slang  in  his  sister's  breast  was  open  to  some 


A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      171 

objection ;  but  they  were  already  on  the 
steps  of  their  house,  and  he  was  too  much 
mortified  at  the  reception  of  his  last  un 
happy  suggestion  to  make  the  confidential 
disclosure  he  had  intended,  even  if  there  had 
still  been  time. 

"There's  mother  waiting  for  me,"  she 
said,  after  an  awkward  pause,  pointing  to 
the  figure  of  Mrs.  Brooks  dimly  outlined  on 
the  veranda.  "  I  suppose  she  was  begin 
ning  to  be  worried  about  my  being  out  alone. 
She'll  be  so  glad  I  met  you."  It  didn't 
appear  to  Herbert,  however,  that  Mrs. 
Brooks  exhibited  any  extravagant  joy  over 
the  occurrence,  and  she  almost  instantly  re 
tired  with  her  daughter  into  the  sitting-room, 
linking  her  arm  in  Cherry's,  and,  as  it  were, 
empanoplying  her  with  her  own  invulnerable 
shawl.  Herbert  went  to  his  room  more  dis 
satisfied  with  himself  than  ever. 

Two  or  three  days  elapsed  without  his  see 
ing  Cherry  ;  even  the  well-known  rustle  of 
her  skirt  in  the  passage  was  missing.  On 
the  third  evening  he  resolved  to  bear  the 
formal  terrors  of  the  drawing-room  again, 
and  stumbled  upon  a  decorous  party  consist 
ing  of  Mrs.  Brooks,  the  deacon,  and  the  pas 
tor's  wife  —  but  not  Cherry.  It  struck  him 


172      A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

on  entering  that  the  momentary  awkward 
ness  o£  the  company  and  the  formal  begin 
ning  of  a  new  topic  indicated  that  he  had 
been  the  subject  of  their  previous  conversa 
tion.  In  this  idea  he  continued,  through  that 
vague  spirit  of  opposition  which  attacks  im 
pulsive  people  in  such  circumstances,  to  gen 
erally  disagree  with  them  on  all  subjects, 
and  to  exaggerate  what  he  chose  to  believe 
they  thought  objectionable  in  him.  He  did 
not  remain  long ;  but  learned  in  that  brief 
interval  that  Cherry  had  gone  to  visit  a 
friend  in  Contra  Costa,  and  would  be  absent 
a  fortnight ;  and  he  was  conscious  that  the 
information  was  conveyed  to  him  with  a 
peculiar  significance. 

The  result  of  which  was  only  to  intensify 
his  interest  in  the  absent  Cherry,  and  for  a 
week  to  plunge  him  in  a  sea  of  conflicting 
doubts  and  resolutions.  At  one  time  he 
thought  seriously  of  demanding  an  explana 
tion  from  Mrs.  Brooks,  and  of  confiding  to 
her  —  as  he  had  intended  to  do  to  Cherry  — 
his  fears  that  his  character  had  been  misin 
terpreted,  and  his  reasons  for  believing  so. 
But  here  he  was  met  by  the  difficulty  of 
formulating  what  he  wished  to  have  ex 
plained,  and  some  doubts  as  to  whether  his 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.   173 

confidences  were  prudent.  At  another  time 
be  contemplated  a  serious  imitation  of  Tap- 
pington's  perfections,  a  renunciation  of  the 
world,  and  an  entire  change  in  his  habits. 
He  would  go  regularly  to  church  —  her 
church,  and  take  up  Tappington's  desolate 
Bible-class.  But  here  the  torturing  doubt 
arose  whether  a  young  lady  who  betrayed  a 
certain  secular  curiosity,  and  who  had  evi 
dently  depended  upon  her  brother  for  a 
knowledge  of  the  world,  would  entirely  like 
it.  At  times  he  thought  of  giving  up  the 
room  and  abandoning  for  ever  this  doubly 
dangerous  proximity  ;  but  here  again  he  was 
deterred  by  the  difficulty  of  giving  a  satis 
factory  reason  to  his  employer,  who  had  pro 
cured  it  as  a  favor.  His  passion  —  for  such 
he  began  to  fear  it  to  be  —  led  him  once  to 
the  extravagance  of  asking  a  day's  holiday 
from  the  bank,  which  he  vaguely  spent  in 
the  streets  of  Oakland  in  the  hope  of  acci 
dentally  meeting  the  exiled  Cherry. 

III. 

THE  fortnight  slowly  passed.  She  re 
turned,  but  he  did  not  see  her.  She  was  al 
ways  out  or  engaged  in  her  room  with  some 


174      A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  SILL. 

female  friend  when  Herbert  was  at  home. 
This  was  singular,  as  she  had  never  ap 
peared  to  him  as  a  young  girl  who  was  fond 
of  visiting  or  had  ever  affected  female  friend 
ships.  In  fact,  there  was  little  doubt  now 
that,  wittingly  or  unwittingly,  she  was  avoid 
ing  him. 

He  was  moodily  sitting  by  the  fire  one 
evening,  having  returned  early  from  dinner. 
In  reply  to  his  habitual  but  affectedly  care 
less  inquiry,  Ellen  had  told  him  that  Mrs. 
Brooks  was  confined  to  her  room  by  a  slight 
headache,  and  that  Miss  Brooks  was  out. 
He  was  trying  to  read,  and  listening  to  the 
wind  that  occasionally  rattled  the  casement 
and  caused  the  solitary  gas-lamp  that  was 
visible  in  the  side  street  to  flicker  and  leap 
wildly.  Suddenly  he  heard  the  same  foot 
fall  upon  his  outer  step  and  a  light  tap  at 
the  door.  Determined  this  time  to  solve  the 
mystery,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ran  to  the 
door ;  but  to  his  anger  and  astonishment  it 
was  locked  and  the  key  was  gone.  Yet  he 
was  positive  that  he  had  not  taken  it  out. 

The  tap  was  timidly  repeated.  In  desper 
ation  he  called  out,  "  Please  don't  go  away 
yet.  The  key  is  gone  ;  but  I  '11  find  it  in  a 
moment."  Nevertheless  he  was  at  his  wits' 
end. 


A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.      175 

There  was  a  hesitating  pause  and  then, 
the  sound  of  a  key  cautiously  thrust  into 
the  lock.  It  turned ;  the  door  opened,  and 
a  tall  figure,  whose  face  and  form  were  com 
pletely  hidden  in  a  veil  and  long  gray  shawl, 
quickly  glided  into  the  room  and  closed  the 
door  behind  it.  Then  it  suddenly  raised  its 
arms,  the  shawl  was  parted,  the  veil  fell 
aside,  and  Cherry  stood  before  him ! 

Her  face  was  quite  pale.  Her  eyes,  usu 
ally  downcast,  frightened,  or  coldly  clear, 
were  bright  and  beautiful  with  excitement. 
The  dimples  were  faintly  there,  although  the 
smile  was  sad  and  half  hysterical.  She  re 
mained  standing,  erect  and  tall,  her  arms 
dropped  at  her  side,  holding  the  veil  and 
shawl  that  still  depended  from  her  shoul 
ders. 

"  So  —  I  've  caught  you !  "  she  said,  with 
a  strange  little  laugh.  "  Oh  yes.  '  Please 
don't  go  away  yet.  I  '11  get  the  key  in  a 
moment,' "  she  continued,  mimicking  his 
recent  utterance. 

He  could  only  stammer,  "  Miss  Brooks  — 
then  it  was  you  f  " 

"  Yes ;  and  you  thought  it  was  sAe,  did  n't 
you  ?  Well,  and  you  're  caught !  I  did  n't 
believe  it ;  I  would  n't  believe  it  when  they 


176      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

said  it.  I  determined  to  find  it  out  myself. 
And  I  have  ;  and  it 's  true." 

Unable  to  determine  whether  she  was  seri 
ous  or  jesting,  and  conscious  only  of  his 
delight  at  seeing  her  again,  he  advanced 
impulsively.  But  her  expression  instantly 
changed  :  she  became  at  once  stiff  and  school- 
girlishly  formal,  and  stepped  back  towards 
the  door. 

"  Don't  come  near  me,  or  I  '11  go,"  she  said 
quickly,  with  her  hand  upon  the  lock. 

"  But  not  before  you  tell  me  what  you 
mean,"  he  said  half  laughingly  half  earnestly. 
"  Who  is  she  ?  and  what  would  n't  you  have 
believed  ?  For  upon  my  honor,  Miss  Brooks, 
I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

His  evident  frankness  and  truthful  man 
ner  appeared  to  puzzle  her.  "  You  mean  to 
say  you  were  expecting  no  one  ?  "  she  said 
sharply. 

"  I  assure  you  I  was  not." 

"  And  —  and  no  woman  was  ever  here  — 
at  that  door?" 

He  hesitated.  "  Not  to-night  —  not  for  a 
long  time  ;  not  since  you  returned  from  Oak 
land." 

"  Then  there  was  one  ?  " 

"I  believe  so." 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.   177 

**  You  believe  — you  don't  know  ?  " 

"  I  believed  it  was  a  woman  from  her 
voice  ;  for  the  door  was  locked,  and  the  key 
was  downstairs.  When  I  fetched  it  and 
opened  the  door,  she  —  or  whoever  it  was  — 
was  gone." 

"  And  that 's  why  you  said  so  imploringly, 
just  now,  *  Please  don't  go  away  yet '  ?  You 
see  I  've  caught  you.  Ah !  I  don't  wonder 
you  blush ! " 

If  he  had,  his  cheeks  had  caught  fire  from 
her  brilliant  eyes  and  the  extravagantly 
affected  sternness  —  as  of  a  school-girl  moni 
tor  —  in  her  animated  face.  Certainly  he 
had  never  seen  such  a  transformation. 

"  Yes ;  but,  you  see,  I  wanted  to  know 
who  the  intruder  was,"  he  said,  smiling  at 
his  own  embarrassment. 

"You  did  —  well,  perhaps  that  will  tell 
you  ?  It  was  found  under  your  door  before 
I  went  away,"  She  suddenly  produced  from 
her  pocket  a  folded  paper  and  handed  it  to 
him.  It  was  a  misspelt  scrawl,  and  ran  as 
follows :  — 

"  Why  are  you  so  cruel  ?  Why  do  you 
keep  me  dansing  on  the  stepps  before  them 
gurls  at  the  windows  ?  Was  it  that  stuck- 
up  Saint,  Miss  Brooks,  that  you  were  afraid 


178      A  SECRET  OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

of,  my  deer?  Oh,  you  faithless  trater! 
Wait  till  I  ketch  you !  I  '11  tear  your  eyes 
out  and  hern ! " 

It  did  not  require  great  penetration  for 
Herbert  to  be  instantly  convinced  that  the 
writer  of  this  vulgar  epistle  and  the  owner 
of  the  unknown  voice  were  two  very  differ 
ent  individuals.  The  note  was  evidently  a 
trick.  A  suspicion  of  its  perpetrators  flashed 
upon  him. 

"  Whoever  the  woman  was,  it  was  not  she 
who  wrote  the  note,"  he  said  positively. 
"  Somebody  must  have  seen  her  at  the  door. 
I  remember  now  that  those  girls  —  your 
neighbors  —  were  watching  me  from  their 
window  when  I  came  out.  Depend  upon  it, 
that  letter  comes  from  them." 

Cherry's  eyes  opened  widely  with  a  sud 
den  childlike  perception,  and  then  shyly 
dropped.  "  Yes,"  she  said  slowly ;  "  they  did 
watch  you.  They  know  it,  for  it  was  they 
who  made  it  the  talk  of  the  neighborhood, 
and  that 's  how  it  came  to  mother's  ears." 
She  stopped,  and,  with  a  frightened  look, 
stepped  back  towards  the  door  again. 

"  Then  that  was  why  your  mother  "  — 

"  Oh  yes,"  interrupted  Cherry  quickly. 
"  That  was  why  I  went  over  to  Oakland,  and 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.   179 

why  mother  forbade  my  walking  with  you 
again,  and  why  she  had  a  talk  with  friends 
about  your  conduct,  and  why  she  came  near 
telling  Mr.  Carstone  all  about  it  until  I 
stopped  her."  She  checked  herself  —  he 
could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  —  the  pale, 
nun-like  girl  was  absolutely  blushing. 

"  I  thank  you,  Miss  Brooks,"  he  said 
gravely,  "  for  your  thoughtfulness,  although 
I  hope  I  could  have  still  proven  my  inno 
cence  to  Mr.  Carstone,  even  if  some  unknown 
woman  tried  my  door  by  mistake,  and  was 
seen  doing  it.  But  I  am  pained  to  think 
that  you  could  have  believed  me  capable  of 
so  wanton  and  absurd  an  impropriety  —  and 
such  a  gross  disrespect  to  your  mother's 
house." 

"  But,"  said  Cherry  with  childlike  naivete*, 
"  you  know  you  don't  think  anything  of  such 
things,  and  that 's  what  I  told  mother." 
"  You  told  your  mother  that  ?  " 
"  Oh  yes  —  I  told  her  Tappington   says 
it 's  quite  common  with  young  men.     Please 
don't  laugh  —  for  it 's  very  dreadful.     Tap 
pington  did  n't  laugh  when  he  told  it  to  me 
as  a  warning.     He  was  shocked." 
"  But,  my  dear  Miss  Brooks  "  — 
"  There  —  now  you  're  angry  —  and  that 's 


180   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

as  bad.  Are  you  sure  you  did  n't  know  that 
woman  ?  " 

"  Positive ! " 

"  Yet  you  seemed  very  anxious  just  now 
that  she  should  wait  till  you  opened  the 
door." 

"  That  was  perfectly  natural." 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  natural  at  all." 

"  But  —  according  to  Tappington  "  — 

"  Because  my  brother  is  very  good  you 
need  not  make  fun  of  him." 

"  I  assure  you  I  have  no  such  intention. 
But  what  more  can  I  say?  I  give  you  my 
word  that  I  don't  know  who  that  unlucky 
woman  was.  No  doubt  she  may  have  been 
some  nearsighted  neighbor  who  had  mistaken 
the  house,  and  I  dare  say  was  as  thoroughly 
astonished  at  my  voice  as  I  was  at  hers.  Can 
I  say  more  ?  Is  it  necessary  for  me  to  swear 
that  since  I  have  been  here  no  woman  has 
ever  entered  that  door  —  but "  — 

"But  who?" 

"  Yourself." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said  hur 
riedly,  with  her  old  frightened  look,  gliding 
to  the  outer  door.  "  It 's  shameful  what 
I  've  done.  But  I  only  did  it  because  — 
because  I  had  faith  in  you,  and  didn't  be- 


A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.      181 

lieve  what  they  said  was  true."  She  had  al 
ready  turned  the  lock.  There  were  tears  in 
her  pretty  eyes. 

"  Stop,"  said  Herbert  gently.  He  walked 
slowly  towards  her,  and  within  reach  of  her 
frightened  figure  stopped  with  the  timid 
respect  of  a  mature  and  genuine  passion. 
"You  must  not  be  seen  going  out  of  that 
door,"  he  said  gravely.  "  You  must  let  me 
go  first,  and,  when  I  am  gone,  lock  the  door 
again  and  go  through  the  hall  to  'your  own 
room.  No  one  must  know  that  I  was  in  the 
house  when  you  came  in  at  that  door.  Good 
night." 

Without  offering  his  hand  he  lifted  his 
eyes  to  her  face.  The  dimples  were  all 
there  —  and  something  else.  He  bowed  and 
passed  out. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  ostentatiously  re 
turned  to  the  house  by  the  front  door,  and 
proceeded  up  the  stairs  to  his  own  room.  As 
he  cast  a  glance  around  he  saw  that  the 
music-stool  had  been  moved  before  the  fire, 
evidently  with  the  view  of  attracting  his  at 
tention.  Lying  upon  it,  carefully  folded, 
was  the  veil  that  she  had  worn.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  that  it  was  left  there  purposely. 
With  a  smile  at  this  strange  girl's  last  char- 


182   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

acteristic  act  of  timid  but  compromising 
recklessness,  after  all  his  precautions,  he 
raised  it  tenderly  to  his  lips,  and  then 
hastened  to  hide  it  from  the  reach  of  vulgar 
eyes.  But  had  Cherry  known  that  its  tem 
porary  resting-place  that  night  was  under 
his  pillow  she  might  have  doubted  his  supe 
rior  caution. 

When  he  returned  from  the  bank  the  next 
afternoon,  Cherry  rapped  ostentatiously  at 
his  door.  "  Mother  wishes  me  to  ask  you," 
she  began  with  a  certain  prim  formality, 
which  nevertheless  did  not  preclude  dimples, 
"  if  you  would  give  us  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  at  our  Church  Festival  to-night? 
There  will  be  a  concert  and  a  collation.  You 
could  accompany  us  there  if  you  cared.  Our 
friends  and  Tappington's  would  be  so  glad 
to  see  you,  and  Dr.  Stout  would  be  delighted 
to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  Certainly  !  "  said  Herbert,  delighted  and 
yet  astounded.  "Then,"  he  added  in  a 
lower  voice,  "  your  mother  no  longer  believes 
me  so  dreadfully  culpable  ?  " 

"  Oh  no,"  said  Cherry  in  a  hurried  whis 
per,  glancing  up  and  down  the  passage ; 
"  I  've  been  talking  to  her  about  it,  and  she 
is  satisfied  that  it  is  all  a  jealous  trick  and 


A  SECRET  OF    TELEGRAPH  HILL.      183 

slander  of  these  neighbors.  Why,  I  told 
her  that  they  had  even  said  that  I  was  that 
mysterious  woman  ;  that  I  came  that  way  to 
you  because  she  had  forbidden  my  seeing 
you  openly." 

"  What !     You  dared  say  that  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  don't  you  see  ?  Suppose  they 
said  they  had  seen  me  coming  in  last  night 
—  that  answers  it,"  she  said  triumphantly. 

"  Oh,  it  does  ?  "  he  said  vacantly. 

"Perfectly.  So  you  see  she's  convinced 
that  she  ought  to  put  you  on  the  same  foot 
ing  as  Tappington,  before  everybody ;  and 
then  there  won't  be  any  trouble.  You'll 
come,  won't  you  ?  It  won't  be  so  very  good. 
And  then,  I  've  told  mother  that  as  there 
have  been  so  many  street-fights,  and  so  much 
talk  about  the  Vigilance  Committee  lately,  I 
ought  to  have  somebody  for  an  escort  when 
I  am  coining  home.  And  if  you  're  known, 
you  see,  as  one  of  us,  there  '11  be  no  harm  in 
your  meeting  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand 
gratefully. 

Her  fingers  rested  a  moment  in  his. 
"  Where  did  you  put  it  ?  "  she  said  demurely. 

"  It  ?  Oh  !  it 's  all  safe,"  he  said  quickly, 
but  somewhat  vaguely. 


184      A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

"  But  I  don't  call  the  upper  drawer  of 
your  bureau  safe,"  she  returned  poutingly, 
"  where  everybody  can  go.  So  you  '11  find 
it  now  inside  the  harmonium,  on  the  key 
board." 

"  Oh,  thank  you." 

"  It 's  quite  natural  to  have  left  it  there 
accidentally  —  is  n't  it  ?  "  she  said  implor 
ingly,  assisted  by  all  her  dimples.  Alas ! 
she  had  forgotten  that  he  was  still  holding 
her  hand.  Consequently,  she  had  not  time 
to  snatch  it  away  and  vanish,  with  a  stifled 
little  cry,  before  it  had  been  pressed  two  or 
three  times  to  his  lips.  A  little  ashamed  of 
his  own  boldness,  Herbert  remained  for  a 
few  moments  in  the  doorway  listening,  and 
looking  uneasily  down  the  dark  passage. 
Presently  a  slight  sound  came  over  the  fan 
light  of  Cherry's  room.  Could  he  believe 
his  ears  ?  The  saint-like  Cherry  —  no  doubt 
tutored,  for  example's  sake,  by  the  perfect 
Tappington  —  was  softly  whistling. 

In  this  simple  fashion  the  first  pages  of 
this  little  idyl  were  quietly  turned.  The 
book  might  have  been  closed  or  laid  aside 
even  then.  But  it  so  chanced  that  Cherry 
was  an  unconscious  prophet;  and  presently 
it  actually  became  a  prudential  necessity  for 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      185 

her  to  have  a  masculine  escort  when  she 
walked  out.  For  a  growing  state  of  lawless 
ness  and  crime  culminated  one  day  the  deep 
tocsin  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  and  at 
its  stroke  fifty  thousand  peaceful  men,  re 
verting  to  the  first  principles  of  social  safety, 
sprang  to  arms,  assembled  at  their  quarters, 
or  patrolled  the  streets.  In  another  hour 
the  city  of  San  Francisco  was  in  the  hands 
of  a  mob  —  the  most  peaceful,  orderly,  well 
organized,  and  temperate  the  world  had  ever 
known,  and  yet  in  conception  as  lawless, 
autocratic,  and  imperious  as  the  conditions 
it  opposed. 

IV. 

HERBERT,  enrolled  in  the  same  section 
with  his  employer  and  one  or  two  fellow- 
clerks,  had  participated  in  the  meetings  of 
the  committee  with  the  light-heartedness  and 
irresponsibility  of  youth,  regretting  only  the 
loss  of  his  usual  walk  with  Cherry  and  the 
hours  that  kept  him  from  her  house.  He 
was  returning  from  a  protracted  meeting 
one  night,  when  the  number  of  arrests  and 
searching  for  proscribed  and  suspected  char 
acters  had  been  so  large  as  to  induce  fears 
of  organized  resistance  and  rescue,  and  on 


186      A  SECRET    OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

reaching  the  foot  of  the  hill  found  it  already 
so  late,  that  to  avoid  disturbing  the  family 
he  resolved  to  enter  his  room  directly  by  the 
door  in  the  side  street.  On  inserting  his 
key  in  the  lock  it  met  with  some  resisting 
obstacle,  which,  however,  yielded  and  appar 
ently  dropped  on  the  mat  inside.  Opening 
the  door  and  stepping  into  the  perfectly  dark 
apartment,  he  trod  upon  this  object,  which 
proved  to  be  another  key.  The  family  must 
have  procured  it  for  their  convenience  dur 
ing  his  absence,  and  after  locking  the  door 
had  carelessly  left  it  in  the  lock.  It  was 
lucky  that  it  had  yielded  so  readily. 

The  fire  had  gone  out.  He  closed  the 
door  and  lit  the  gas,  and  after  taking  off  his 
overcoat  moved  to  the  door  leading  into  the 
passage  to  listen  if  anybody  was  still  stirring. 
To  his  utter  astonishment  he  found  it  locked. 
What  was  more  remarkable  —  the  key  was 
also  inside!  An  inexplicable  feeling  took 
possession  of  him.  He  glanced  suddenly 
around  the  room,  and  then  his  eye  fell  upon 
the  bed.  Lying  there,  stretched  at  full 
length,  was  the  recumbent  figure  of  a  man. 

He  was  apparently  in  the  profound  sleep 
of  utter  exhaustion.  The  attitude  of  his 
limbs  and  the  order  of  his  dress  —  of  which 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  BILL.   187 

only  his  collar  and  cravat  had  been  loosened 
—  showed  that  sleep  must  have  overtaken 
him  almost  instantly.  In  fact,  the  bed  was 
scarcely  disturbed  beyond  the  actual  impress 
of  his  figure.  He  seemed  to  be  a  handsome, 
matured  man  of  about  forty ;  his  dark 
straight  hair  was  a  little  thinned  over  the 
temples,  although  his  long  heavy  moustache 
was  still  youthful  and  virgin.  His  clothes, 
which  were  elegantly  cut  and  of  finer  mate 
rial  than  that  in  ordinary  use,  the  delicacy 
and  neatness  of  his  linen,  the  whiteness  of 
his  hands,  and,  more  particularly,  a  certain 
dissipated  pallor  of  complexion  and  lines  of 
recklessness  on  the  brow  and  cheek,  indi 
cated  to  Herbert  that  the  man  before  him 
was  one  of  that  desperate  and  suspected 
class  —  some  of  whose  proscribed  members 
he  had  been  hunting  —  the  professional 
gambler ! 

Possibly  the  magnetism  of  Herbert's  intent 
and  astonished  gaze  affected  him.  He  moved 
slightly,  half  opened  his  eyes,  said  "  Halloo, 
Tap,"  rubbed  them  again,  wholly  opened 
them,  fixed  them  with  a  lazy  stare  on  Her 
bert,  and  said : 

"  Now,  who  the  devil  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  /  have  the  right  to  ask  that 


188       A  SECRET   OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

question,  considering  that  this  is  my  room," 
said  Herbert  sharply. 

"  Your  room  ?  " 

"  Yes !  " 

The  stranger  half  raised  himself  on  his  el 
bow,  glanced  round  the  room,  settled  himself 
slowly  back  on  the  pillows,  with  his  hands 
clasped  lightly  behind  his  head,  dropped  his 
eyelids,  smiled,  and  said : 

"  Rats !  " 

"  What  ?"  demanded  Herbert,  with  a  re 
sentful  sense  of  sacrilege  to  Cherry's  virgin 
slang. 

"  Well,  old  rats  then  !  D'  ye  think  I  don't 
know  this  shebang?  Look  here,  Johnny, 
what  are  you  putting  on  all  this  side  for, 
eh  ?  What 's  your  little  game  ?  Where 's 
Tappington  ?  " 

"  If  you  mean  Mr.  Brooks,  the  son  of  this 
house,  who  formerly  lived  in  this  room,"  re 
plied  Herbert,  with  a  formal  precision  in 
tended  to  show  a  doubt  of  the  stranger's 
knowledge  of  Tappington,  "you  ought  to 
know  that  he  has  left  town." 

"  Left  town  !  "  echoed  the  stranger,  rais 
ing  himself  again.  "  Oh,  I  see !  getting 
rather  too  warm  for  him  here  ?  Humph  !  I 
ought  to  have  thought  of  that.  Well,  you 


A   SECRET  OF   TELEGRAPH  HILL.       189 

know,  he  did  take  mighty  big  risks,  any 
way  !  "  He  was  silent  a  moment,  with  his 
brows  knit  and  a  rather  dangerous  expres 
sion  in  his  handsome  face.  "  So  some  d — d 
hound  gave  him  away  —  eh  ?  " 

"  I  had  n't  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Mr. 
Brooks  except  by  reputation,  as  the  re 
spected  son  of  the  lady  upon  whose  house 
you  have  just  intruded,"  said  Herbert  frig 
idly,  yet  with  a  creeping  consciousness  of 
some  unpleasant  revelation. 

The  stranger  stared  at  him  for  a  moment, 
again  looked  carefully  round  the  room,  and 
then  suddenly  dropped  his  head  back  on  the 
pillow,  and  with  his  white  hands  over  his 
eyes  and  mouth  tried  to  restrain  a  spasm  of 
silent  laughter.  After  an  effort  he  succeeded, 
wiped  his  moist  eyes,  and  sat  up. 

"  So  you  did  n't  know  Tappington,  eh  ?  " 
he  said,  lazily  buttoning  his  collar. 

«  No." 

"  No  more  do  I." 

He  retied  his  cravat,  yawned,  rose,  shook 
himself  perfectly  neat  again,  and  going  to 
Herbert's  dressing-table  quietly  took  up  a 
brush  and  began  to  lightly  brush  himself, 
occasionally  turning  to  the  window  to  glance 
out.  Presently  he  turned  to  Herbert  and  said : 


190      A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

"  Well,  Johnny,  what 's  your  name  ?  " 
"  I  am  Herbert  Ely,  of  Carstone's  Bank." 
"  So,  and  a  member  of  this  same  Vigilance 
Committee,  I  reckon,"  he  continued. 
"  Yes."  . 

"  Well,  Mr.  Bly,  I  owe  you  an  apology 
for  coming  here,  and  some  thanks  for  the 
only  sleep  I  've  had  in  forty-eight  hours.  I 
struck  this  old  shebang  at  about  ten  o'clock, 
and  it 's  now  two,  so  I  reckon  I  've  put  in 
about  four  hours'  square  sleep.  Now,  look 
here."  He  beckoned  Herbert  towards  the 
window.  "  Do  you  see  those  three  men  stand 
ing  under  that  gaslight  ?  Well,  they  're  part 
of  a  gang  of  Vigilantes  who  've  hunted  me  to 
the  hill,  and  are  waiting  to  see  me  come  out 
of  the  bushes,  where  they  reckon  I  'in  hiding. 
Go  to  them  and  say  that  I  'm  here !  Tell 
them  you  've  got  Gentleman  George  — 
George  Dornton,  the  man  they  've  been  hunt 
ing  for  a  week  —  in  this  room.  I  promise 
you  I  won't  stir,  nor  kick  up  a  row,  when 
they  've  come.  Do  it,  and  Carstone,  if  he  's 
a  square  man,  will  raise  your  salary  for  it, 
and  promote  you."  He  yawned  slightly,  and 
then  slowly  looking  around  him,  drew  the 
easy-chair  towards  him  and  dropped  comfort 
ably  in  it,  gazing  at  the  astounded  and  mo 
tionless  Herbert  with  a  lazy  smile. 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       191 

"  You  're  wondering  what  my  little  game 
is,  Johnny,  ain't  you  ?  Well,  I  '11  tell  you. 
What  with  being  hunted  from  pillar  to  post, 
putting  my  old  pards  to  no  end  of  trouble, 
and  then  slipping  up  on  it  whenever  I  think 
I've  got  a  sure  thing  like  this,"  —  he  cast 
an  almost  affectionate  glance  at  the  bed, — 
"I  've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  's 
played  out,  and  I  might  as  well  hand  in  my 
checks.  It 's  only  a  question  of  my  being  run 
out  of  'Frisco,  or  hiding  until  I  can  slip  out 
myself ;  and  I  've  reckoned  I  might  as  well 
give  them  the  trouble  and  expense  of  trans 
portation.  And  if  I  can  put  a  good  thing 
in  your  way  in  doing  it  —  why,  it  will  sort 
of  make  things  square  with  you  for  the  fuss 
I  've  given  you." 

Even  in  the  stupefaction  and  helplessness 
of  knowing  that  the  man  before  him  was 
the  notorious  duellist  and  gambler  George 
Dornton,  one  of  the  first  marked  for  depor 
tation  by  the  Vigilance  Committee,  Herbert 
recognized  all  he  had  heard  of  his  invincible 
coolness,  courage,  and  almost  philosophic 
fatalism.  For  an  instant  his  youthful  imagi 
nation  checked  even  his  indignation.  When 
he  recovered  himself,  he  said,  with  rising 
color  and  boyish  vehemence  ; 


192       A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

"  Whoever  you  may  be,  I  arn  neither  a 
police  officer  nor  a  spy.  You  have  no  right 
to  insult  me  by  supposing  that  I  would  profit 
by  the  mistake  that  made  you  my  guest,  or 
that  I  would  refuse  you  the  sanctuary  of  the 
roof  that  covers  your  insult  as  well  as  your 
blunder." 

The  stranger  gazed  at  him  with  an  amused 
expression,  and  then  rose  and  stretched  out 
his  hand, 

"  Shake,  Mr.  Bly  I  You  're  the  only  man 
that  ever  kicked  George  Dornton  when  he 
deserved  it.  Good-night ! "  He  took  his 
hat  and  walked  to  the  door. 

"  Stop!  "  said  Herbert  impulsively;  "  the 
night  is  already  far  gone ;  go  back  and  fin 
ish  your  sleep." 
"  You  mean  it  ?  " 
« I  do." 

The  stranger  turned,  walked  back  to  the 
bed,  unfastening  his  coat  and  collar  as  he 
did  so,  and  laid  himself  down  in  the  attitude 
of  a  moment  before. 

"  I  will  call  you  in  the  morning,"  contin 
ued  Herbert.  "  By  that  time,"  —  he  hesi 
tated,  —  "  by  that  time  your  pursuers  may 
have  given  up  their  search.  One  word  more. 
You  will  be  frank  with  me  ?  " 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       193 

«  Go  on." 

"  Tappington  and  you  are  —  friends  ?  " 

"Well  — yes." 

"  His  mother  and  sister  know  nothing  of 
this  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  he  did  n't  boast  of  it.  /did  n't. 
Is  that  all  ?  "  sleepily. 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  him.  Good 
night." 

"  Good-night." 

But  even  at  that  moment  George  Dornton 
had  dropped  off  in  a  quiet,  peaceful  sleep. 

Ely  turned  down  the  light,  and,  drawing 
his  easy-chair  to  the  window,  dropped  into  it 
in  bewildering  reflection.  This  then  was  the 
secret  —  unknown  to  mother  and  daughter 

—  unsuspected  by  all !     This  was  the  double 
life  of  Tappington,  half  revealed  in  his  flirta 
tion  with  the  neighbors,  in  the  hidden  cards 
behind  the  books,  in  the  mysterious  visitor 

—  still  unaccounted  for  —  and  now  wholly 
exploded  by  this  sleeping,  confederate,  for 
whom,  somehow,  Herbert  felt  the  greatest 
sympathy  !     What  was  to  be  done  ?     What 
should  he  say  to  Cherry  —  to  her  mother  — 
to  Mr.  Carstone  ?     Yet  he  had  felt  he  had 
done  right.     From  time  to  time  he  turned  to 


194       A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

the  motionless  recumbent  shadow  on  the  bed 
and  listened  to  its  slow  and  peaceful  respira 
tion.  Apart  from  that  undefinable  attrac 
tion  which  all  original  natures  have  for  each 
other,  the  thrice-blessed  mystery  of  protec 
tion  of  the  helpless,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  seemed  to  dawn  upon  him  through  that 
night. 

Nevertheless,  the  actual  dawn  came  slowly. 
Twice  he  nodded  and  awoke  quickly  with  a 
start.  The  third  time  it  was  day.  The 
street-lamps  were  extinguished,  and  with 
them  the  moving,  restless  watchers  seemed 
also  to  have  vanished.  Suddenly  a  formal 
deliberate  rapping  at  the  door  leading  to  the 
hall  startled  him  to  his  feet. 

It  must  be  Ellen.  So  much  the  better ; 
he  could  quickly  get  rid  of  her.  He  glanced 
at  the  bed ;  Dornton  slept  on  undisturbed. 
He  unlocked  the  door  cautiously,  and  in 
stinctively  fell  back  before  the  erect,  shawled, 
and  decorous  figure  of  Mrs.  Brooks.  But  an 
utterly  new  resolution  and  excitement  had 
supplanted  the  habitual  resignation  of  her 
handsome  features,  and  given  them  an  angry 
sparkle  of  expression. 

Recollecting  himself,  he  instantly  stepped 
forward  into  the  passage,  drawing  to  the 


A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      195 

door  behind  him.  as  she,  with  equal  celerity, 
opposed  it  with  her  hand. 

"  Mr.  Ely,"  she  said  deliberately,  "  Ellen 
has  just  told  me  that  your  voice  has  been 
heard  in  conversation  with  some  one  in  this 
room  late  last  night.  Up  to  this  moment  I 
have  foolishly  allowed  my  daughter  to  per 
suade  me  that  certain  infamous  scandals 
regarding  your  conduct  here  were  false.  I 
must  ask  you  as  a  gentleman  to  let  me  pass 
now  and  satisfy  myself." 

"  But,  my  dear  madam,  one  moment.  Let 
me  first  explain  —  I  beg  "  —  stammered 
Herbert  with  a  half -hysterical  laugh.  "  I 
assure  you  a  gentleman  friend  "  — 

But  she  had  pushed  him  aside  and  en 
tered  precipitately.  With  a  quick  feminine 
glance  round  the  room  she  turned  to  the 
bed,  and  then  halted  in  overwhelming  con 
fusion. 

"  It 's  a  friend,"  said  Herbert  in  a  hasty 
whisper.  "  A  friend  of  mine  who  returned 
with  me  late,  and  whom,  on  account  of  the 
disturbed  state  of  the  streets,  I  induced  to 
stay  here  all  night.  He  was  so  tired  that  I 
have  not  had  the  heart  to  disturb  him  yet." 

"  Oh,  pray  don't !  —  I  beg  "  —  said  Mrs. 
Brooks  with  a  certain  youthful  vivacity,  but 


196      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

still  gazing  at  the  stranger's  handsome  fea 
tures  as  she  slowly  retreated.  "  Not  for 
worlds !  " 

Herbert  was  relieved  ;  she  was  actually 
blushing. 

"  You  see,  it  was  quite  unpremeditated,  I 
assure  you.  We  came  in  together,"  whis 
pered  Herbert,  leading  her  to  the  door,  "  and 
I"  — 

"  Don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  madam," 
said  a  lazy  voice  from  the  bed,  as  the  stran 
ger  leisurely  raised  himself  upright,  putting 
the  last  finishing  touch  to  his  cravat  as  he 
shook  himself  neat  again.  "  I  'm  an  utter 
stranger  to  him,  and  he  knows  it.  He  found 
me  here,  hiding  from  the  Vigilantes,  who 
were  chasing  me  on  the  hill.  I  got  in  at 
that  door,  which  happened  to  be  unlocked. 
He  let  me  stay  because  he  was  a  gentleman 
—  and  —  I  was  n't.  I  beg  your  pardon, 
madam,  for  having  interrupted  him  before 
you  ;  but  it  was  a  little  rough  to  have  him 
lie  on  my  account  when  he  was  n't  the  kind 
of  man  to  lie  on  his  own.  You  '11  forgive 
him  —  won't  you,  please  ?  —  and,  as  I  'm 
taking  myself  off  now,  perhaps  you  '11  over 
look  my  intrusion  too." 

It   was   impossible    to    convey   the    lazy 


A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       197 

frankness  of  this  speech,  the  charming  smile 
with  which  it  was  accompanied,  or  the  easy 
yet  deferential  manner  with  which,  taking 
up  his  hat,  he  bowed  to  Mrs.  Brooks  as  he 
advanced  toward  the  door. 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Brooks,  hurriedly  glanc 
ing  from  Herbert  to  the  stranger,  "  it  must 
be  the  Vigilantes  who  are  now  hanging 
about  the  street.  Ellen  saw  them  from  her 
window,  and  thought  they  were  your  friends, 
Mr.  Bly.  This  gentleman  —  your  friend" 
—  she  had  become  a  little  confused  in  her 
novel  excitement  —  "  really  ought  not  to  go 
out  now.  It  would  be  madness." 

"  If  you  would  n't  mind  his  remaining  a 
little  longer,  it  certainly  would  be  safer," 
said  Herbert,  with  wondering  gratitude. 

"  I  certainly  should  n't  consent  to  his 
leaving  my  house  now,"  said  Mrs.  Brooks 
with  dignity ;  "  and  if  you  would  n't  mind 
calling  Cherry  here,  Mr.  Bly  —  she  's  in  the 
dining-room  —  and  then  showing  yourself 
for  a  moment  in  the  street  and  finding  out 
what  they  wanted,  it  would  be  the  best  thing 
to  do." 

Herbert  flew  downstairs ;  in  a  few  hur 
ried  words  he  gave  the  same  explanation  to 
the  astounded  Cherry  that  he  had  given  to 


198   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

her  mother,  with  the  mischievous  addition 
that  Mrs.  Brooks's  unjust  suspicions  had 
precipitated  her  into  becoming  an  amicable 
accomplice,  and  then  ran  out  into  the  street. 
Here  he  ascertained  from  one  of  the  Vigi 
lantes,  whom  he  knew,  that  they  were  really 
seeking  Dornton  ;  but  that,  concluding  that 
the  fugitive  had  already  escaped  to  the 
wharves,  they  expected  to  withdraw  their 
surveillance  at  noon.  Somewhat  relieved, 
he  hastened  back,  to  find  the  stranger 
calmly  seated  on  the  sofa  in  the  parlor  with 
the  same  air  of  frank  indifference,  lazily 
relating  the  incidents  of  his  flight  to  the 
two  women,  who  were  listening  with  every 
expression  of  sympathy  and  interest.  "  Poor 
fellow  !  "  said  Cherry,  taking  the  astonished 
Bly  aside  into  the  hall,  "  I  don't  believe  he 's 
half  as  bad  as  they  said  he  is  —  or  as  even 
he  makes  himself  out  to  be.  But  did  you 
notice  mother  ?  " 

Herbert,  a  little  dazed,  and,  it  must  be 
confessed,  a  trifle  uneasy  at  this  ready  ac 
ceptance  of  the  stranger,  abstractedly  said 
he  had  not. 

"  Why,  it 's  the  most  ridiculous  thing. 
She 's  actually  going  round  without  her 
shawl,  and  does  n't  seem  to  know  it." 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       199 


V. 

WHEN  Herbert  finally  reached  the  bank 
that  morning  he  was  still  in  a  state  of  doubt 
and  perplexity.  He  had  parted  with  his 
grateful  visitor,  whose  safety  in  a  few  hours 
seemed  assured,  but  without  the  least  fur 
ther  revelation  or  actual  allusion  to  anything 
antecedent  to  his  selecting  Tappington's 
room  as  refuge.  More  than  that,  Herbert 
was  convinced  from  his  manner  that  he  had 
no  intention  of  making  a  confidant  of  Mrs. 
Brooks,  and  this  convinced  him  that  Dorn- 
ton's  previous  relations  with  Tappington 
were  not  only  utterly  inconsistent  with  that 
young  man's  decorous  reputation,  but  were 
unexpected  by  the  family.  The  stranger's 
familiar  knowledge  of  the  room,  his  myste 
rious  allusions  to  the  "  risks  "  Tappington 
had  taken,  and  his  sudden  silence  on  the 
discovery  of  Bly's  ignorance  of  the  whole 
affair  —  all  pointed  to  some  secret  that,  in 
nocent  or  not,  was  more  or  less  perilous,  not 
only  to  the  son  but  to  the  mother  and  sister. 
Of  the  latter's  ignorance  he  had  no  doubt  — 
but  had  he  any  right  to  enlighten  them? 
Admitting  that  Tappington  had  deceived 


200      A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

them  with  the  others,  would  they  thank  him 
for  opening  their  eyes  to  it  ?  If  they  had  al 
ready  a  suspicion,  would  they  care  to  know 
that  it  was  shared  by  him  ?  Halting  be 
tween  his  frankness  and  his  delicacy,  the 
final  thought  that  in  his  budding  relations 
with  the  daughter  it  might  seem  a  cruel  bid 
for  her  confidence,  or  a  revenge  for  their  dis 
trust  of  him,  inclined  him  to  silence.  But 
an  unforeseen  occurrence  took  the  matter 
from  his  hands.  At  noon  he  was  told  that 
Mr.  Carstone  wished  to  see  him  in  his  pri 
vate  room  ! 

Satisfied  that  his  complicity  with  Dorn- 
ton's  escape  was  discovered,  the  unfortunate 
Herbert  presented  himself,  pale  but  self-pos 
sessed,  before  his  employer.  That  brief  man 
of  business  bade  him  be  seated,  and  standing 
himself  before  the  fireplace,  looked  down  cu 
riously,  but  not  unkindly,  upon  his  employee. 

"  Mr.  Bly,  the  bank  does  not  usually  in 
terfere  with  the  private  affairs  of  its  em 
ployees,  but  for  certain  reasons  which  I  pre 
fer  to  explain  to  you  later,  I  must  ask  you 
to  give  me  a  straightforward  answer  to  one 
or  two  questions.  I  may  say  that  they  have 
nothing  to  do  with  your  relations  to  the  bank, 
which  are  to  us  perfectly  satisfactory." 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.      201 

More  than  ever  convinced  that  Mr.  Car- 
stone  was  about  to  speak  of  his  visitor,  Her 
bert  signified  his  willingness  to  reply. 

"  You  have  been  seen  a  great  deal  with 
Miss  Brooks  lately  —  on  the  street  and  else 
where  —  acting  as  her  escort,  and  evidently 
on  terms  of  intimacy.  To  do  you  both  jus 
tice,  neither  of  you  seemed  to  have  made  it 
a  secret  or  avoided  observation ;  but  I  must 
ask  you  directly  if  it  is  with  her  mother's 
permission  ?  " 

Considerably  relieved,  but  wondering  what 
was  coming,  Herbert  answered,  with  boyish 
frankness,  that  it  was. 

"  Are  you  —  engaged  to  the  young  lady?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Are  you  —  well,  Mr.  Bly  —  briefly,  are 
you  what  is  called  '  in  love '  with  her  ? " 
asked  the  banker,  with  a  certain  brusque 
hurrying  over  of  a  sentiment  evidently  in 
compatible  with  their  present  business  sur 
roundings. 

Herbert  blushed.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  heard  the  question  voiced,  even  by  him 
self. 

"I  am/'  he  said  resolutely. 

"  And  you  wish  to  marry  her  ?  " 

"  If  I  dared  ask  her  to  accept  a  young 


202   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

man   with   no   position  as  yet,"  stammered 
Herbert. 

"  People  don't  usually  consider  a  young 
man  in  Carstone's  Bank  of  no  position,"  said 
the  banker  dryly  ;  "  and  I  wish  for  your  sake 
that  were  the  only  impediment.  For  I  am 
compelled  to  reveal  to  you  a  secret."  He 
paused,  and  folding  his  arms,  looked  fixedly 
down  upon  his  clerk.  "  Mr.  Ely,  Tapping- 
ton  Brooks,  the  brother  of  your  sweetheart, 
was  a  defaulter  and  embezzler  from  this 
bank !  " 

Herbert  sat  dumfounded  and  motionless. 

u  Understand  two  things,"  continued  Mr. 
Carstone  quickly.  "  First,  that  no  purer  or 
better  women  exist  than  Miss  Brooks  and 
her  mother.  Secondly,  that  they  know  noth 
ing  of  this,  and  that  only  myself  and  one 
other  man  are  in  possession  of  the  secret." 

He  slightly  changed  his  position,  and  went 
on  more  deliberately.  "  Six  weeks  ago  Tap- 
pington  sat  in  that  chair  where  you  are  sit 
ting  now,  a  convicted  hypocrite  and  thief. 
Luckily  for  him,  although  his  guilt  was 
plain,  and  the  whole  secret  of  his  double  life 
revealed  to  me,  a  sum  of  money  advanced  in 
pity  by  one  of  his  gambling  confederates  had 
made  his  accounts  good  and  saved  him  from 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       203 

suspicion  in  the  eyes  of  his  fellow-clerks  and 
my  partners.  At  first  he  tried  to  fight  me 
on  that  point ;  then  he  blustered  and  said 
his  mother  could  have  refunded  the  money  ; 
and  asked  me  what  was  a  paltry  five  thou 
sand  dollars !  I  told  him,  Mr.  Bly,  that  it 
might  be  five  years  of  his  youth  in  state 
prison  ;  that  it  might  be  five  years  of  sorrow 
and  shame  for  his  mother  and  sister  ;  that  it 
might  be  an  everlasting  stain  on  the  name 
of  his  dead  father  —  my  friend.  He  talked 
of  killing  himself:  I  told  him  he  was  a  cow 
ardly  fool.  He  asked  me  to  give  him  up 
to  the  authorities  :  I  told  him  I  intended  to 
take  the  law  in  my  own  hands  and  give  him 
another  chance  ;  and  then  he  broke  down.  I 
transferred  him  that  very  day,  without  giv 
ing  him  time  to  communicate  with  anybody, 
to  our  branch  office  at  Portland,  with  a 
letter  explaining  his  position  to  our  agent, 
and  the  injunction  that  for  six  months  he 
should  be  under  strict  surveillance.  I  my 
self  undertook  to  explain  his  sudden  depart 
ure  to  Mrs.  Brooks,  and  obliged  him  to  write 
to  her  from  time  to  time."  He  paused,  and 
then  continued  :  "  So  far  I  believe  my  plan 
has  been  successful :  the  secret  has  been 
kept ;  he  has  broken  with  the  evil  associates 


204       A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL 

that  ruined  him  here  —  to  the  best  of  my 
knowledge  he  has  had  no  communication 
with  them  since ;  even  a  certain  woman  here 
who  shared  his  vicious  hidden  life  has  aban 
doned  him." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  asked  Herbert  involun 
tarily,  as  he  recalled  his  mysterious  visitor. 

"  I  believe  the  Vigilance  Committee  has 
considered  it  a  public  duty  to  deport  her  and 
her  confederates  beyond  the  State,"  returned 
Carstone  dryly. 

Another  idea  flashed  upon  Herbert. 
"  And  the  gambler  who  advanced  the  money 
to  save  Tappington  ?  "  he  said  breathlessly. 

"  Was  n't  such  a  hound  as  the  rest  of  his 
kind,  if  report  says  true,"  answered  Car- 
stone.  "  He  was  well  known  here  as  George 
Dornton  —  Gentleman  George  —  a  man  ca 
pable  of  better  things.  But  he  was  before 
your  time,  Mr.  Bly  —  you  don't  know  him." 

Herbert  didn't  deem  it  a  felicitous  mo 
ment  to  correct  his  employer,  and  Mr.  Car- 
stone  continued :  "  I  have  now  told  you 
what  I  thought  it  was  my  duty  to  tell  you. 
I  must  leave  you  to  judge  how  far  it  affects 
your  relations  with  Miss  Brooks." 

'  Herbert  did  not  hesitate.     "  I  should  be 
very  sorry,  sir,  to  seem  to  undervalue  your 


A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       205 

consideration  or  disregard  your  warning ; 
but  I  am  afraid  that  even  if  you  had  been 
less  merciful  to  Tappington,  and  he  were 
now  a  convicted  felon,  I  should  change 
neither  my  feelings  nor  my  intentions  to  his 
sister." 

"  And  you  would  still  marry  her  ?  "  said 
Carstone  sternly  ;  "  you,  an  employee  of  the 
bank,  would  set  the  example  of  allying  your 
self  with  one  who  had  robbed  it  ?  " 

"I  —  am  afraid  I  would,  sir,"  said  Her 
bert  slowly. 

"  Even  if  it  were  a  question  of  your  re 
maining  here  ?  "  said  Carstone  grimly. 

Poor  Herbert  already  saw  himself  dis 
missed  and  again  taking  up  his  weary  quest 
for  employment;  but,  nevertheless,  he  an 
swered  stoutly : 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  nothing  will  prevent  you  marrying 
Miss  Brooks  ?  " 

"Nothing  —  save  my  inability  to  support 
her." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Carstone,  with  a  pecul 
iar  light  in  his  eyes,  "  it  only  remains  for 
the  bank  to  mark  its  opinion  of  your  con 
duct  by  increasing  your  salary  to  enable 
you  to  do  so!  Shake  hands,  Mr.  Ely,"  he 


206   A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

said,  laughing.  "  I  think  you  '11  do  to  tie 
to  —  and  I  believe  the  young  lady  will  be  of 
the  same  opinion.  But  not  a  word  to  either 
her  or  her  mother  in  regard  to  what  you 
have  heard.  And  now  I  may  tell  you  some 
thing  more.  I  am  not  without  hope  of  Tap- 
pington's  future,  nor  —  d — n  it !  —  without 
some  excuse  for  his  fault,  sir.  He  was  arti 
ficially  brought  up.  When  my  old  friend 
died,  Mrs.  Brooks,  still  a  handsome  woman, 
like  all  her  sex  would  n't  rest  until  she  had 
another  devotion,  and  wrapped  herself  and 
her  children  up  in  the  Church.  Theology 
may  be  all  right  for  grown  people,  but  it 's 
apt  to  make  children  artificial;  and  Tap- 
pington  was  pious  before  he  was  fairly  good. 
He  drew  on  a  religious  credit  before  he  had 
a  moral  capital  behind  it.  He  was  brought 
up  with  no  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
when  he  went  into  it  —  it  captured  him.  I 
don't  say  there  are  not  saints  born  into  the 
world  occasionally  ;  but  for  every  one  you  '11 
find  a  lot  of  promiscuous  human  nature. 
My  old  friend  Josh  Brooks  had  a  heap  of 
it,  and  it  would  n't  be  strange  if  some  was 
left  in  his  children,  and  burst  through  their 
straight-lacing  in  a  queer  way.  That 's  all ! 
Good-morning,  Mr.  Bly.  Forget  what  I  Ve 


A  SECRET  OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL.       207 

told  you  for  six  months,  and  then  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  Tappington  was  on  hand  to  give 
his  sister  away." 

Mr.  Carstone's  prophecy  was  but  half 
realized.  At  the  end  of  six  months  Her 
bert  Bly's  discretion  and  devotion  were  duly 
rewarded  by  Cherry's  hand.  But  Tapping- 
ton  did  not  give  her  away.  That  saintly 
prodigal  passed  his  period  of  probation  with 
exemplary  rectitude,  but,  either  from  a  dread 
of  old  temptation,  or  some  unexplained  rea 
son,  he  preferred  to  remain  in  Portland,  and 
his  fastidious  nest  on  Telegraph  Hill  knew 
him  no  more.  The  key  of  the  little  door 
on  the  side  street  passed,  naturally,  into  the 
keeping  of  Mrs.  Ely. 

Whether  the  secret  of  Tappington's 
double  life  was  ever  revealed  to  the  two 
women  is  not  known  to  the  chronicler.  Mrs. 
Ely  is  reported  to  have  said  that  the  climate 
of  Oregon  was  more  suited  to  her  brother's 
delicate  constitution  than  the  damp  fogs  of 
San  Francisco,  and  that  his  tastes  were  al 
ways  opposed  to  the  mere  frivolity  of  metro 
politan  society.  The  only  possible  reason  for 
supposing  that  the  mother  may  have  become 
cognizant  of  her  son's  youthful  errors  was  in 


208       A  SECRET   OF  TELEGRAPH  HILL. 

the  occasional  visits  to  the  house  of  the  hand 
some  George  Dornton,  who,  in  the  social 
revolution  that  followed  the  brief  reign  of 
the  Vigilance  Committee,  characteristically 
returned  as  a  dashing  stockbroker,  and  the 
fact  that  Mrs.  Brooks  seemed  to  have  dis 
carded  her  ascetic  shawl  forever.  But  as  all 
this  was  contemporaneous  with  the  absurd 
rumor,  that  owing  to  the  loneliness  induced 
by  the  marriage  of  her  daughter  she  contem 
plated  a  similar  change  in  her  own  condi 
tion,  it  is  deemed  unworthy  the  serious  con 
sideration  of  this  veracious  chronicle. 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 


I. 

HARDLY  one  of  us,  I  think,  really  believed 
in  the  auriferous  probabilities  of  Eureka 
Gulch.  Following  a  little  stream,  we  had 
had  one  day  drifted  into  it,  very  much  as  we 
imagined  the  river  gold  might  have  done  in 
remoter  ages,  with  the  difference  that  we  re 
mained  there,  while  the  river  gold  to  all  ap 
pearances  had  not.  At  first  it  was  tacitly 
agreed  to  ignore  this  fact,  and  we  made  the 
most  of  the  charming  locality,  with  its  rare 
watercourse  that  lost  itself  in  tangled  depths 
of  manzanita  and  alder,  its  laurel-choked 
pass,  its  flower-strewn  hillside,  and  its  sum 
mit  crested  with  rocking  pines. 

"You  see,"  said  the  optimistic  Rowley, 
"  water  's  the  main  thing  after  all.  If  we 
happen  to  strike  river  gold,  thar  's  the  stream 
for  washing  it ;  if  we  happen  to  drop  into 
quartz  —  and  that  thar  rock  looks  mighty 


210  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

likely  —  thar  ain't  a  more  natural-born  site 
for  a  mill  than  that  right  bank,  with  water 
enough  to  run  fifty  stamps.  That  hillside 
is  an  original  dump  for  your  tailings,  and 
a  ready  found  inclined  road  for  your  trucks, 
fresh  from  the  hands  of  Providence ;  and  that 
road  we  're  kalkilatin'  to  build  to  the  turn 
pike  will  run  just  easy  along  that  ridge." 

Later,  when  we  were  forced  to  accept  the 
fact  that  finding  gold  was  really  the  primary 
object  of  a  gold-mining  company,  we  still  re 
mained  there,  excusing  our  youthful  laziness 
and  incertitude  by  brilliant  and  effective  sar 
casms  upon  the  unremunerative  attractions  of 
the  gulch.  Nevertheless,  when  Captain  Jim, 
returning  one  day  from  the  nearest  settle 
ment  and  post-office,  twenty  miles  away, 
burst  upon  us  with  "  Well,  the  hull  thing  '11 
be  settled  now,  boys  ;  Lacy  Bassett  is  coming 
down  yer  to  look  round,"  we  felt  consider 
ably  relieved. 

And  yet,  perhaps,  we  had  as  little  reason 
for  it  as  we  had  for  remaining  there.  There 
was  no  warrant  for  any  belief  in  the  special 
divining  power  of  the  unknown  Lacy  Bas 
sett,  except  Captain  Jim's  extravagant  faith 
in  his  general  superiority,  and  even  that  had 
always  been  a  source  of  amused  skepticism 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  211 

to  the  camp.  We  were  already  impatiently 
familiar  with  the  opinions  of  this  unseen  ora 
cle  ;  he  was  always  impending  in  Captain 
Jim's  speech  as  a  fragrant  memory  or  an 
unquestioned  authority.  When  Captain  Jim 
began,  "  Ez  Lacy  was  one  day  tellin'  me,"  or, 
*'  Ez  Lacy  Bassett  allows,"  or  more  formally, 
when  strangers  were  present,  "  Ez  a  partick- 
ler  friend  o'  mine,  Lacy  Bassett  —  maybe 
ez  you  know  him  —  sez,"  the  youthful  and 
lighter  members  of  the  Eureka  Mining  Com 
pany  glanced  at  each  other  in  furtive  enjoy 
ment.  Nevertheless  no  one  looked  more 
eagerly  forward  to  the  arrival  of  this  apocry 
phal  sage  than  these  indolent  skeptics.  It 
was  at  least  an  excitement ;  they  were  equally 
ready  to  accept  his  condemnation  of  the  lo 
cality  or  his  justification  of  their  original 
selection. 

He  came.  He  was  received  by  the  Eureka 
Mining  Company  lying  on  their  backs  on  the 
grassy  site  of  the  prospective  quartz  mill,  not 
far  from  the  equally  hypothetical  "  slide  " 
to  the  gulch.  He  came  by  the  future  stage 
road  —  at  present  a  thickset  jungle  of  scrub- 
oaks  and  ferns.  He  was  accompanied  by 
Captain  Jim,  who  had  gone  to  meet  him  on 
the  trail,  and  for  a  few  moments  all  critical 


212  CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEND. 

inspection  of  himself  was  withheld  by  the 
extraordinary  effect  he  seemed  to  have  upon 
the  faculties  of  his  introducer. 

Anything  like  the  absolute  prepossession 
of  Captain  Jim  by  this  stranger  we  had 
never  imagined.  He  approached  us  running 
a  little  ahead  of  his  guest,  and  now  and  then 
returning  assuringly  to  his  side  with  the  ex 
pression  of  a  devoted  Newfoundland  dog, 
which  in  fluffiness  he  generally  resembled. 
And  now,  even  after  the  introduction  was 
over,  when  he  made  a  point  of  standing 
aside  in  an  affectation  of  carelessness,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  the  simulation  was 
so  apparent,  and  his  consciousness  and  ab 
sorption  in  his  friend  so  obvious,  that  it  was 
a  relief  to  us  to  recall  him  into  the  conver 
sation. 

As  to  our  own  first  impressions  of  the 
stranger,  they  were  probably  correct.  We 
all  disliked  him ;  we  thought  him  conceited, 
self-opinionated,  selfish,  and  untrustworthy. 
But  later,  reflecting  that  this  was  possibly 
the  result  of  Captain  Jim's  over-praise,  and 
finding  none  of  these  qualities  as  yet  offen 
sively  opposed  to  our  own  selfishness  and 
conceit,  we  were  induced,  like  many  others, 
to  forget  our  first  impressions.  We  could 


CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEND.  213 

easily  correct  him  if  he  attempted  to  impose 
upon  ws,  as  he  evidently  had  upon  Captain 
Jim.  Believing,  after  the  fashion  of  most 
humanity,  that  there  was  something  about  us 
particularly  awe-inspiring  and  edifying  to 
vice  or  weakness  of  any  kind,  we  good-hu- 
moredly  yielded  to  the  cheap  fascination  of 
this  showy,  self -saturated,  over-dressed,  and 
underbred  stranger.  Even  the  epithet  of 
"  blower  "  as  applied  to  him  by  Kowley  had 
its  mitigations  ;  in  that  Trajan  community  a 
bully  was  not  necessarily  a  coward,  nor  florid 
demonstration  always  a  weakness. 

His  condemnation  of  the  gulch  was  sweep 
ing,  original,  and  striking.  He  laughed  to 
scorn  our  half-hearted  theory  of  a  gold  de 
posit  in  the  bed  and  bars  of  our  favorite 
stream.  We  were  not  to  look  for  auriferous 
alluvium  in  the  bed  of  any  present  existing 
stream,  but  in  the  "  cement  "  or  dried-up  bed 
of  the  original  prehistoric  rivers  that  formerly 
ran  parallel  with  the  present  bed,  and  which 
—  he  demonstrated  with  the  stem  of  Pick- 
ney's  pipe  in  the  red  dust  —  could  be  found 
by  sinking  shafts  at  right  angles  with  the 
stream.  The  theory  was  to  us,  at  that  time, 
novel  and  attractive.  It  was  true  that  the 
scientific  explanation,  although  full  and  gra- 


214  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

tuitous,  sounded  vague  and  incoherent.  It 
was  true  that  the  geological  terms  were  not 
always  correct,  and  their  pronunciation  de 
fective,  but  we  accepted  such  extraordinary 
discoveries  as  "  ignus  fatuus  rock,"  "  splen 
diferous  drift,"  "  mica  twist "  (recalling  a 
popular  species  of  tobacco),  "  iron  pirates," 
and  "  discomposed  quartz  "  as  part  of  what 
he  not  inaptly  called  a  "  tautological  forma 
tion,"  and  were  happy.  Nor  was  our  con 
tentment  marred  by  the  fact  that  the  well- 
known  scientific  authority  with  whom  the 
stranger  had  been  intimate,  —  to  the  point 
of  "  sleeping  together  "  during  a  survey,  — 
and  whom  he  described  as  a  bent  old  man 
with  spectacles,  must  have  aged  consider 
ably  since  one  of  our  party  saw  him  three 
years  before  as  a  keen  young  fellow  of 
twenty-five.  Inaccuracies  like  those  were 
only  the  carelessness  of  genius.  "  That 's 
my  opinion,  gentlemen,"  he  concluded,  neg 
ligently  rising,  and  with  pointed  preoccupa 
tion  whipping  the  dust  of  Eureka  Gulch 
from  his  clothes  with  his  handkerchief,  "  but 
of  course  it  ain't  nothin'  to  me." 

Captain  Jim,  who  had  followed  every 
word  with  deep  and  trustful  absorption,  here 
repeated,  "It  ain't  nothing  to  him,  boys," 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  215 

with  a  confidential  implication  of  the  gra 
tuitous  blessing  we  had  received,  and  then 
added,  with  loyal  encouragement  to  him,  "  It 
ain't  nothing  to  you,  Lacy,  in  course,"  and 
laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  with  infinite 
tenderness. 

We,  however,  endeavored  to  make  it  some 
thing  to  Mr.  Lacy  Bassett.  He  was  spon 
taneously  offered  a  share  in  the  company 
and  a  part  of  Captain  Jim's  tent.  He  ac 
cepted  both  after  a  few  deprecating  and 
muttered  asides  to  Captain  Jim,  which  the 
latter  afterwards  explained  to  us  was  the 
giving  up  of  several  other  important  enter 
prises  for  our  sake.  When  he  finally 
strolled  away  with  Rowley  to  look  over  the 
gulch,  Captain  Jim  reluctantly  tore  himself 
away  from  him  only  for  the  pleasure  of  reit 
erating  his  praise  to  us  as  if  in  strictest  con 
fidence  and  as  an  entirely  novel  proceeding. 

"  You  see,  boys,  I  did  n't  like  to  say  it 
afore  him,  we  bein'  old  friends ;  but,  be 
tween  us,  that  young  feller  ez  worth  thou 
sands  to  the  camp.  Mebbee,"  he  continued 
with  grave  naivete,  "  I  ain't  said  much  about 
him  afore,  mebbee,  bein'  old  friends  and  ac 
customed  to  him  —  you  know  how  it  is,  boys, 
—  I  haven't  appreciated  him  as  much  ez 


216  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

I  ought,  and  ez  you  do.  In  fact,  I  don't 
ezakly  remember  how  I  kern  to  ask  him  down 
yer.  It  came  to  me  suddent,  one  day  only  a 
week  ago  Friday  night,  thar  under  that  buck 
eye  ;  I  was  thinkin'  o'  one  of  his  sayins,  and 
sez  I  —  thar  's  Lacy,  if  he  was  here  he  'd  set 
the  hull  thing  right.  It  was  the  ghost  of  a 
chance  my  findin'  him  free,  but  I  did.  And 
there  he  is,  and  yer  we  are  settled!  Ye 
noticed  how  he  just  knocked  the  bottom 
outer  our  plans  to  work.  Ye  noticed  that 
quick  sort  o'  sneerin'  smile  o'  his,  didn't 
ye  —  that's  Lacy!  I've  seen  him  knock 
over  a  heap  o'  things  without  sayin'  any- 
thin'  —  with  jist  that  smile." 

It  occurred  to  us  that  we  might  have  some 
difficulty  in  utilizing  this  smile  in  our  pres 
ent  affairs,  and  that  we  should  have  prob 
ably  preferred  something  more  assuring,  but 
Captain  Jim's  faith  was  contagious. 

"  What  is  he,  anyway  ? "  asked  Joe 
Walker  lazily. 

"  Eh !  "  echoed  Captain  Jim  in  astonish 
ment.  "  What  is  Lacy  Bassett  ?  " 

"  Yes,  what  is  he  ?  "  repeated  Walker. 

«  Wot  is  —  he  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  've   knowed   him   now   goin'   as   four 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  217 

year,"  said  Captain  Jim  with  slow  reflective 
contentment.  "  Let 's  see.  It  was  in  the 
fall  o'  '54  I  first  met  him,  and  he  's  allus 
been  the  same  ez  you  see  him  now." 

"  But  what  is  his  business  or  profession  ? 
What  does  he  do  ?  " 

Captain  Jim  looked  reproachfully  at  his 
questioner. 

"  Do  ?  "  he  repeated,  turning  to  the  rest 
of  us  as  if  disdaining  a  direct  reply.  "  Do  ? 
—  why,  wot  he 's  doin'  now.  He  's  allus 
the  same,  allus  Lacy  Bassett." 

Howbeit,  we  went  to  work  the  next  day 
under  the  superintendence  of  the  stranger 
with  youthful  and  enthusiastic  energy,  and 
began  the  sinking  of  a  shaft  at  once.  To  do 
Captain  Jim's  friend  justice,  for  the  first 
few  weeks  he  did  not  shirk  a  fair  share  of 
the  actual  labor,  replacing  his  objectionable 
and  unsuitable  finery  with  a  suit  of  service 
able  working  clothes  got  together  by  general 
contribution  of  the  camp,  and  assuring  us  of 
a  fact  we  afterwards  had  cause  to  remember, 
that  "he  brought  nothing  but  himself  into 
Eureka  Gulch."  It  may  be  added  that  he 
certainly  had  not  brought  money  there,  as 
Captain  Jim  advanced  the  small  amounts 
necessary  for  his  purchases  in  the  distant 


218  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

settlement,  and  for  the  still  smaller  sums  he 
lost  at  cards,  which  he  played  with  charac 
teristic  self-sufficiency. 

Meantime  the  work  in  the  shaft  progressed 
slowly  but  regularly.  Even  when  the  nov 
elty  had  worn  off  and  the  excitement  of  an 
ticipation  grew  fainter,  I  am  afraid  that  we 
clung  to  this  new  form  of  occupation  as  an 
apology  for  remaining  there ;  for  the  fasci 
nations  of  our  vagabond  and  unconventional 
life  were  more  potent  than  we  dreamed  of. 
We  were  slowly  fettered  by  our  very  free 
dom  ;  there  was  a  strange  spell  in  this  very 
boundlessness  of  our  license  that  kept  us 
from  even  the  desire  of  change ;  in  the  wild 
and  lawless  arms  of  nature  herself  we  found 
an  embrace  as  clinging,  as  hopeless  and  re 
straining,  as  the  civilization  from  which  we 
had  fled.  We  were  quite  content  after  a 
few  hours'  work  in  the  shaft  to  lie  on  our 
backs  on  the  hillside  staring  at  the  unwink 
ing  sky,  or  to  wander  with  a  gun  through 
the  virgin  forest  in  search  of  game  scarcely 
less  vagabond  than  ourselves.  We  indulged 
in  the  most  extravagant  and  dreamy  specu 
lations  of  the  fortune  we  should  eventually 
discover  in  the  shaft,  and  believed  that  we 
were  practical.  We  broke  our  "saleratus 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  219 

bread  "  with  appetites  unimpaired  by  rest 
lessness  or  anxiety ;  we  went  to  sleep  under 
the  grave  and  sedate  stars  with  a  serene  con 
sciousness  of  having  fairly  earned  our  rest ; 
we  awoke  the  next  morning  with  unabated 
trustfulness,  and  a  sweet  obliviousness  of 
even  the  hypothetical  fortunes  we  had  per 
haps  won  or  lost  at  cards  overnight.  We 
paid  no  heed  to  the  fact  that  our  little  capi 
tal  was  slowly  sinking  with  the  shaft,  and 
that  the  rainy  season  —  wherein  not  only 
"  no  man  could  work,"  but  even  such  play 
as  ours  was  impossible  —  was  momentarily 
impending. 

In  the  midst  of  this,  one  day  Lacy  Bassett 
suddenly  emerged  from  the  shaft  before  his 
"shift "  of  labor  was  over  with  every  sign  of 
disgust  and  rage  in  his  face  and  inarticulate 
with  apparent  passion.  In  vain  we  gathered 
round  him  in  concern ;  in  vain  Captain  Jim 
regarded  him  with  almost  feminine  sym 
pathy,  as  he  flung  away  his  pick  and  dashed 
his  hat  to  the  ground. 

"What 'sup,  Lacy,  old  pard?  What's 
gone  o'  you  ?  "  said  Captain  Jim  tenderly. 

"  Look !  "  gasped  Lacy  at  last,  when  every 
eye  was  on  him,  holding  up  a  small  frag 
ment  of  rock  before  us  and  the  next  moment 


220  CAPTAIN  JIWS  FRIEND. 

grinding  it  under  his  heel  in  rage.  "  Look  ! 
To  think  that  I  've  been  fooled  agin  by  this 
blanked  fossiliferous  trap  —  blank  it!  To 
think  that  after  me  and  Professor  Parker 
was  once  caught  jist  in  this  way  up  on  the 
Stanislaus  at  the  bottom  of  a  hundred-foot 
shaft  by  this  rotten  trap  —  that  yer  I  am  — 
bluffed  agin ! " 

There  was  a  dead  silence;  we  looked  at 
each  other  blankly. 

"  But,  Bassett,"  said  Walker,  picking  up 
a  part  of  the  fragment,  "  we  Ve  been  finding 
this  kind  of  stuff  for  the  last  two  weeks." 

"  But  how  ?  "  returned  Lacy,  turning  upon 
him  almost  fiercely.  "  Did  ye  find  it  super 
posed  on  quartz,  or  did  you  find  it  not  super 
posed  on  quartz?  Did  you  find  it  in  vol 
canic  drift,  or  did  ye  find  it  in  old  red-sand 
stone  or  coarse  illuvion  ?  Tell  me  that,  and 
then  ye  kin  talk.  But  this  yer  blank  fossil 
iferous  trap,  instead  o'  being  superposed  on 
top,  is  superposed  on  the  bottom.  And  that 
means  "  — 

"  What  ?  "  we  all  asked  eagerly. 

"  Why  —  blank  it  all  —  that  this  yer  con 
vulsion  of  nature,  this  prehistoric  volcanic 
earthquake,  instead  of  acting  laterally  and 
chuckin'  the  stream  to  one  side,  has  been 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  221 

revolutionary  and  turned  the  old  river-bed 
bottom-side  up,  and  yer  d — d  cement  hez  got 
half  the  globe  atop  of  it !  Ye  might  strike 
it  from  China,  but  nowhere  else." 

We  continued  to  look  at  one  another,  the 
older  members  with  darkening  faces,  the 
younger  with  a  strong  inclination  to  laugh. 
Captain  Jim,  who  had  been  concerned  only 
in  his  friend's  emotion,  and  who  was  hang 
ing  with  undisguised  satisfaction  on  these 
final  convincing  proofs  of  his  superior  geo 
logical  knowledge,  murmured  approvingly 
and  confidingly,  u  He  's  right,  boys !  Thar 
ain't  another  man  livin'  ez  could  give  you 
the  law  and  gospil  like  that !  Ye  can  tie  to 
what  he  says.  That 's  Lacy  all  over." 

Two  weeks  passed.  We  had  gathered, 
damp  and  disconsolate,  in  the  only  available 
shelter  of  the  camp.  For  the  long  summer 
had  ended  unexpectedly  to  us  ;  we  had  one 
day  found  ourselves  caught  like  the  improvi 
dent  insect  of  the  child's  fable  with  gauzy 
and  unseasonable  wings  wet  and  bedraggled 
in  the  first  rains,  homeless  and  hopeless. 
The  scientific  Lacy,  who  lately  spent  most 
of  his  time  as  a  bar-room  oracle  in  the  settle 
ment,  was  away,  and  from  our  dripping 
canvas  we  could  see  Captain  Jim  returning 


222  CAPTAIN  JIWS  FRIEND. 

from  a  visit  to  him,  slowly  plodding  along 
the  trail  towards  us. 

"  It 's  no  use,  boys,"  said  Rowley,  sum 
marizing  the  result  of  our  conference,  "  we 
must  speak  out  to  him,  and  if  nobody  else 
cares  to  do  it  I  will.  I  don't  know  why  we 
should  be  more  mealy-mouthed  than  they  are 
at  the  settlement.  They  don't  hesitate  to 
call  Bassett  a  dead-beat,  whatever  Captain 
Jim  says  to  the  contrary." 

The  unfortunate  Captain  Jim  had  halted 
irresolutely  before  the  gloomy  faces  in  the 
shelter.  Whether  he  felt  instinctively  some 
forewarning  of  what  was  coming  I  cannot 
say.  There  was  a  certain  dog-like  conscious 
ness  in  his  eye  and  a  half-backward  glance 
over  his  shoulder  as  if  he  were  not  quite  cer 
tain  that  Lacy  was  not  following.  The  rain 
had  somewhat  subdued  his  characteristic 
fluffiness,  and  he  cowered  with  a  kind  of 
sleek  storm-beaten  despondency  over  the 
smoking  fire  of  green  wood  before  our  tent. 

Nevertheless,  Rowley  opened  upon  him 
with  a  directness  and  decision  that  aston 
ished  us.  He  pointed  out  briefly  that  Lacy 
Bassett  had  been  known  to  us  only  through 
Captain  Jim's  introduction.  That  he  had 
been  originally  invited  there  on  Captain 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  223 

Jim's  own  account,  and  that  his  later  connec 
tion  with  the  company  had  been  wholly  the 
result  of  Captain  Jim's  statements.  That, 
far  from  being  any  aid  or  assistance  to  them, 
Bassett  had  beguiled  them  by  apocryphal 
knowledge  and  sham  scientific  theories  into  an 
expensive  and  gigantic  piece  of  folly.  That, 
in  addition  to  this,  they  had  just  discovered 
that  he  had  also  been  using  the  credit  of  the 
company  for  his  own  individual  expenses  at 
the  settlement  while  they  were  working  on  his 
d — d  fool  shaft  —  all  of  which  had  brought 
them  to  the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  That,  as 
a  result,  they  were  forced  now  to  demand  his 
resignation  —  not  only  on  their  general  ac 
count,  but  for  Captain  Jim's  sake  —  believ 
ing  firmly,  as  they  did,  that  he  had  been 
as  grossly  deceived  in  his  friendship  for 
Lacy  Bassett  as  they  were  in  their  business 
relations  with  him. 

Instead  of  being  mollified  by  this,  Captain 
Jim,  to  our  greater  astonishment,  suddenly 
turned  upon  the  speaker,  bristling  with  his 
old  canine  suggestion. 

"  There  !  I  said  so  !  Go  on  !  I  'd  have 
sworn  to  it  afore  you  opened  your  lips.  I 
knowed  it  the  day  you  sneaked  around  and 
wanted  to  know  wot  his  business  was !  I 


224  CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEND. 

said  to  myself,  Cap,  look  out  for  that  sneakin' 
hound  Rowley,  he  's  no  friend  o'  Lacy's. 
And  the  day  Lacy  so  far  demeaned  him 
self  as  to  give  ye  that  splendid  explanation 
o'  things,  I  watched  ye ;  ye  did  n't  think 
it,  but  I  watched  ye.  Ye  can't  fool  me  !  I 
saw  ye  lookin'  at  Walker  there,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  Wot 's  the  use,  Lacy,  wot 's  the 
use  o'  your  slingin'  them  words  to  such  as 
them  ?  Wot  do  they  know  ?  It 's  just  their 
pure  jealousy  and  ignorance.  Ef  you  'd 
come  down  yer,  and  lazed  around  with  us 
and  fallen  into  our  common  ways,  you  'd  ha' 
been  ez  good  a  man  ez  the  next.  But  no,  it 
ain't  your  style,  Lacy,  you  're  accustomed  to 
high-toned  men  like  Professor  Parker,  and 
you  can't  help  showing  it.  No  wonder  you 
took  to  avoidin'  us ;  no  wonder  I  've  had  to 
foller  you  over  the  Burnt  Wood  Crossin' 
time  and  again,  to  get  to  see  ye.  I  see  it 
all  now :  ye  can't  stand  the  kempany  I 
brought  ye  to !  Ye  had  to  wipe  the  slum 
gullion  of  Eureka  Gulch  off  your  hands, 
Lacy  "  —  He  stopped,  gasped  for  breath,  and 
then  lifted  his  voice  more  savagely,  "  And 
now,  what 's  this  ?  Wot 's  this  hogwash  ? 
this  yer  lyin'  slander  about  his  gettin'  things 
on  the  kempany's  credit?  Eh,  speak  up, 
some  of  ye  !  " 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND  225 

We  were  so  utterly  shocked  and  stupefied 
at  the  degradation  of  this  sudden  and  unex 
pected  outburst  from  a  man  usually  so  hon 
orable,  gentle,  self-sacrificing,  and  forgiving, 
that  we  forgot  the  cause  of  it  and  could  only 
stare  at  each  other.  What  was  this  cheap 
stranger,  with  his  shallow  swindling  tricks, 
to  the  ignoble  change  he  had  worked  upon 
the  man  before  us.  Rowley  and  Walker, 
both  fearless  fighters  and  quick  to  resent  an 
insult,  only  averted  their  saddened  faces  and 
turned  aside  without  a  word. 

"  Ye  dussen't  say  it !  Well,  hark  to  me 
then,"  he  continued  with  white  and  fever 
ish  lips.  "  /  put  him  up  to  helpin'  himself, 
/  told  him  to  use  the  kempany's  name  for 
credit.  Ye  kin  put  that  down  to  me.  And 
when  ye  talk  of  his  resigning,  I  want  ye  to 
understand  that  I  resign  outer  this  rotten 
kempany  and  take,  him  with  me  !  Ef  all 
the  gold  yer  lookin'  for  was  piled  up  in  that 
shaft  from  its  bottom  in  hell  to  its  top  in  the 
gulch,  it  ain't  enough  to  keep  me  here  away 
from  him !  Ye  kin  take  all  my  share  —  all 
my  rights  yer  above  ground  and  below  it  — 
all  I  carry,"  —  he  threw  his  buckskin  purse 
and  revolver  on  the  ground,  —  "  and  pay 
yourselves  what  you  reckon  you've  lost 


226  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  PR  I END. 

through  him.    But  you  and  me  is  quits  from 
to-day." 

He  strode  away  before  a  restraining  voice 
or  hand  could  reach  him.  His  dripping  fig 
ure  seemed  to  melt  into  the  rain  beneath  the 
thickening  shadows  of  the  pines,  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  gone.  From  that  day 
forward  Eureka  Gulch  knew  him  no  more. 
And  the  camp  itself  somehow  melted  away 
during  the  rainy  season,  even  as  he  had 
done. 

II. 

THREE  years  had  passed.  The  pioneer 
stage-coach  was  sweeping  down  the  long  de 
scent  to  the  pastoral  valley  of  Gilead,  and  I 
was  looking  towards  the  village  with  some 
pardonable  interest  and  anxiety.  For  I  car 
ried  in  my  pocket  my  letters  of  promotion 
from  the  box  seat  of  the  coach  —  where  I 
had  performed  the  functions  of  treasure 
messenger  for  the  Excelsior  Express  Com 
pany  —  to  the  resident  agency  of  that  com 
pany  in  the  bucolic  hamlet  before  me.  The 
few  dusty  right-angled  streets,  with  their 
rigid  and  staringly  new  shops  and  dwellings, 
.the  stern  formality  of  one  or  two  obelisk- 
like  meeting-house  spires,  the  illimitable  out- 


CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEXD.  227 

lying  plains  of  wheat  and  wild  oats  beyond, 
with  their  monotony  scarcely  broken  by 
skeleton  stockades,  corrals,  and  barrack- 
looking  farm  buildings,  were  all  certainly 
unlike  the  unkempt  freedom  of  the  mountain 
fastnesses  in  which  I  had  lately  lived  and 
moved.  Yuba  Bill,  the  driver,  whose  usual 
expression  of  humorous  discontent  deepened 
into  scorn  as  he  gathered  up  his  reins  as  if 
to  charge  the  village  and  recklessly  sweep  it 
from  his  path,  indicated  a  huge,  rambling, 
obtrusively  glazed,  and  capital-lettered  build 
ing  with  a  contemptuous  flick  of  his  whip  as 
we  passed.  "  Ef  you  're  kalkilatin'  we  '11 
get  our  partin'  drink  there  you  're  mistaken. 
That 's  wot  they  call  a  temperance  house  — 
wot  means  a  place  where  the  licker  ye  get 
underhand  is  only  a  trifle  worse  than  the 
hash  ye  get  above-board.  I.  suppose  it's 
part  o'  one  o'  the  mysteries  o'  Providence 
that  wharever  you  find  a  dusty  hole  like  this 
—  that 's  naturally  thirsty  —  ye  run  agin  a 
*  temperance  '  house.  But  never  you  mind ! 
I  should  n't  wonder  if  thar  was  a  demijohn 
o'  whiskey  in  the  closet  of  your  back  office, 
kept  thar  by  the  feller  you  're  relievin'  — 
who  was  a  white  man  and  knew  the  ropes." 
A  few  minutes  later,  when  my  brief  in- 


228  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

stallation  was  over,  we  did  find  the  demi 
john  in  the  place  indicated.  As  Yuba  Bill 
wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  heavy 
buckskin  glove,  he  turned  to  me  not  un 
kindly.  "  I  don't  like  to  set  ye  agin  Gil- 
e-ad,  which  is  a  scrip-too-rural  place,  and  a 
God-fearin'  place,  and  a  nice  dry  place,  and 
a  place  ez  I  Ve  heard  tell  whar  they  grow 
beans  and  pertatoes  and  garden  sass ;  but 
afore  three  weeks  is  over,  old  pard,  you  '11 
be  howlin'  to  get  back  on  that  box  seat  with 
me,  whar  you  uster  sit,  and  be  ready  to  take 
your  chances  agin,  like  a  little  man,  to  get 
drilled  through  with  buckshot  from  road 
agents.  You  hear  me !  I  '11  give  you  three 
weeks,  sonny,  just  three  weeks,  to  get  your 
butes  full  o'  hayseed  and  straws  in  yer  liar  ; 
and  I  '11  find  ye  wadin'  the  North  Fork  at 
high  water  to  get  out  o'  this."  He  shook 
my  hand  with  grim  tenderness,  removing  his 
glove  —  a  rare  favor  —  to  give  me  the  pres 
sure  of  his  large,  soft,  protecting  palm,  and 
strode  away.  The  next  moment  he  was 
shaking  the  white  dust  of  Gilead  from  his 
scornful  chariot-wheels. 

In  the  hope  of  familiarizing  myself  with 
the  local  interests  of  the  community,  I  took 
up  a  copy  of  the  "  Gilead  Guardian  "  which 


CAPTAIN  JIM  S   FRIEND.  229 

lay  on  my  desk,  forgetting  for  the  moment 
the  usual  custom  of  the  country  press  to  dis 
place  local  news  for  long  editorials  on  for 
eign  subjects  and  national  politics.  I  found, 
to  my  disappointment,  that  the  "  Guardian  " 
exhibited  more  than  the  usual  dearth  of  do 
mestic  intelligence,  although  it  was  singu 
larly  oracular  on  "The  State  of  Europe," 
and  "  Jeifersonian  Democracy."  A  certain 
cheap  assurance,  a  copy-book  dogmatism,  a 
colloquial  familiarity,  even  in  the  impersonal 
plural,  and  a  series  of  inaccuracies  and  blun 
ders  here  and  there,  struck  some  old  chord 
in  my  memory.  I  was  mutely  wondering 
where  and  when  I  had  become  personally 
familiar  with  rhetoric  like  that,  when  the 
door  of  the  office  opened  and  a  man  entered. 
I  was  surprised  to  recognize  Captain  Jim. 

I  had  not  seen  him  since  he  had  indig 
nantly  left  us,  three  years  before,  in  Eureka 
Gulch.  The  circumstances  of  his  defection 
were  certainly  not  conducive  to  any  volun 
tary  renewal  of  friendship  on  either  side ; 
and  although,  even  as  a  former  member  of 
the  Eureka  Mining  Company,  I  was  not  con 
scious  of  retaining  any  sense  of  injury,  yet 
the  whole  occurrence  flashed  back  upon  me 
with  awkward  distinctness.  To  my  relief, 


230  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

however,  he  greeted  me  with  his  old  cordi 
ality  ;  to  my  amusement  he  added  to  it  a 
suggestion  of  the  large  forgiveness  of  con 
scious  rectitude  and  amiable  toleration.  I 
thought,  however,  I  detected,  as  he  glanced 
at  the  paper  which  was  still  in  my  hand  and 
then  back  again  at  my  face,  the  same  uneasy 
canine  resemblance  I  remembered  of  old.  He 
had  changed  but  little  in  appearance ;  per 
haps  he  was  a  trifle  stouter,  more  mature, 
and  slower  in  his  movements.  If  I  may 
return  to  my  canine  illustration,  his  grayer, 
dustier,  and  more  wiry  ensemble  gave  me 
the  impression  that  certain  pastoral  and  agri 
cultural  conditions  had  varied  his  type,  and 
he  looked  more  like  a  shepherd's  dog  in 
whose  brown  eyes  there  was  an  abiding  con 
sciousness  of  the  care  of  straying  sheep,  and 
possibly  of  one  black  one  in  particular. 

He  had,  he  told  me,  abandoned  mining 
and  taken  up  farming  on  a  rather  large 
scale.  He  had  prospered.  He  had  other 
interests  at  stake,  "  A  flour-mill  with  some 
improvements  —  and  —  and  " —  here  his  eyes 
wandered  to  the  "  Guardian "  again,  and 
he  asked  me  somewhat  abruptly  what  I 
thought  of  the  paper.  Something  impelled 
me  to  restrain  my  previous  fuller  criticism, 


CAPTAIN  J1HTS   FRIEND.  231 

and  I  contented  myself  by  saying  briefly 
that  I  thought  it  rather  ambitious  for  the 
locality.  "That's  the  word,"  he  said  with 
a  look  of  gratified  relief,  "  *  ambitious  '  — 
you  've  just  hit  it.  And  what 's  the  matter 
with  thet?  Ye  kan't  expect  a  high-toned 
man  to  write  down  to  the  level  of  every  kar- 
pin'  hound,  ken  ye  now  ?  That 's  what  he 
says  to  me  "  —  He  stopped  half  confused, 
and  then  added  abruptly:  "That's  one  o* 
my  investments." 

"  Why,  Captain  Jim,  I  never  suspected 
that  you  "  — 

"  Oh,  I  don't  write  it,"  he  interrupted 
hastily.  "  I  only  furnish  the  money  and  the 
advertising,  and  run  it  gin' rally,  you  know; 
and  I'm  responsible  for  it.  And  I  select 
the  eddy ter  —  and  "  —  he  continued,  with  a 
return  of  the  same  uneasy  wistful  look  — 
"  thar  's  suthin'  in  thet,  you  know,  eh  ?  " 

I  was  beginning  to  be  perplexed.  The 
memory  evoked  by  the  style  of  the  editorial 
writing  and  the  presence  of  Captain  Jim 
was  assuming  a  suspicious  relationship  to 
each  other.  "  And  who 's  your  editor  ?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Oh,  he 's  —  he 's  —  er  —  Lacy  Bassett," 
he  replied,  blinking  his  eyes  with  a  hopeless 


232  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND, 

assumption  of  carelessness.  "  Let  *s  see ! 
Oh  yes !  You  knowed  Lacy  down  there  at 
Eureka.  I  disremembered  it  till  now.  Yes, 
sir !  "  he  repeated  suddenly  and  almost  rudely, 
as  if  to  preclude  any  adverse  criticism,  "  he 's 
the  eddyter ! " 

To  my  surprise  he  was  quite  white  and 
tremulous  with  nervousness.  I  was  very 
sorry  for  him,  and  as  I  really  cared  very 
little  for  the  half-forgotten  escapade  of  his 
friend  except  so  far  as  it  seemed  to  render 
him  sensitive,  I  shook  his  hand  again  heartily 
and  began  to  talk  of  our  old  life  in  the  gulch 
—  avoiding  as  far  as  possible  any  allusion  to 
Lacy  Bassett.  His  face  brightened  ;  his  old 
simple  cordiality  and  trustfulness  returned, 
but  unfortunately  with  it  his  old  disposition 
to  refer  to  Bassett.  "  Yes,  they  waz  high 
old  times,  and  ez  I  waz  sayin'  to  Lacy  on'y 
yesterday,  there  is  a  kind  o'  freedom  'bout 
that  sort  o'  life  that  runs  civilization  and 
noospapers  mighty  hard,  however  high-toned 
they  is.  Not  but  what  Lacy  ain't  right," 
he  added  quickly,  "  when  he  sez  that  the 
opposition  the  4  Guardian '  gets  here  comes 
from  ignorant  low-down  fellers  ez  wos 
brought  up  in  played-out  camps,  and  can't 
tell  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar  and  a  scien- 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  233 

tific  man  when  they  sees  him.  No !  So  I 
sez  to  Lacy, '  Never  you  mind,  it 's  high  time 
they  did,  and  they've  got  to  do  it  and  to 
swaller  the  "  Guardian,"  if  I  sink  double  the 
money  I  've  already  put  into  the  paper.' " 

I  was  not  long  in  discovering  from  other 
sources  that  the  "  Guardian  "  was  not  pop 
ular  with  the  more  intelligent  readers  of 
Gilead,  and  that  Captain  Jim's  extravagant 
estimate  of  his  friend  was  by  no  means  in 
dorsed  by  the  community.  But  criticism 
took  a  humorous  turn  even  in  that  practical 
settlement,  and  it  appeared  that  Lacy  Bas- 
sett's  vanity,  assumption,  and  ignorance  were 
an  unfailing  and  weekly  joy  to  the  critical, 
in  spite  of  the  vague  distrust  they  induced 
in  the  more  homely-witted,  and  the  dull  ac 
quiescence  of  that  minority  who  accepted  the 
paper  for  its  respectable  exterior  and  adver 
tisements.  I  was  somewhat  grieved,  how 
ever,  to  find  that  Captain  Jim  shared  equally 
with  his  friend  in  this  general  verdict  of 
incompetency,  and  that  some  of  the  most 
outrageous  blunders  were  put  down  to  him. 
But  I  was  not  prepared  to  believe  that  Lacy 
had  directly  or  by  innuendo  helped  the  pub 
lic  to  this  opinion. 

Whether  through  accident   or  design  on 


234  CAPTAIN  JIM'S   FRIEND. 

his  part,  Lacy  Bassett  did  not  personally 
obtrude  himself  upon  my  remembrance  until 
a  month  later.  One  dazzling  afternoon, 
when  the  dust  and  heat  had  driven  the  pride 
of  Gilead's  manhood  into  the  surreptitious 
shadows  of  the  temperance  hotel's  back 
room,  and  had  even  cleared  the  express 
office  of  its  loungers,  and  left  me  alone  with 
darkened  windows  in  the  private  office,  the 
outer  door  opened  and  Captain  Jim's  friend 
entered  as  part  of  that  garish  glitter  I  had 
shut  out.  To  do  the  scamp  strict  justice, 
however,  he  was  somewhat  subdued  in  his 
dress  and  manner,  and,  possibly  through 
some  gentle  chastening  of  epigram  and  re 
volver  since  I  had  seen  him  last,  was  less 
aggressive  and  exaggerated.  I  had  the  im 
pression,  from  certain  odors  wafted  through 
the  apartment  and  a  peculiar  physical  exal 
tation  that  was  inconsistent  with  his  evident 
moral  hesitancy,  that  he  had  prepared  him 
self  for  the  interview  by  a  previous  visit 
to  the  hidden  fountains  of  the  temperance 
hotel. 

"We  don't  seem  to  have  run  agin  each 
other  since  you  've  been  here,"  he  said  with 
an  assurance  that  was  nevertheless  a  trifle 
forced,  "  but  I  reckon  we  're  both  busy  men, 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S   FRIEND.  235 

and  there 's  a  heap  too  much  loafing  goin'  on 
in  Gilead.  Captain  Jim  told  me  he  met  you 
the  day  you  arrived ;  said  you  just  cottoned 
to  the  '  Guardian '  at  once  and  thought 
it  a  deal  too  good  for  Gilead;  eh?  Oh, 
well,  jest  ez  likely  he  did  n't  say  it  —  it  was 
only  his  gassin'.  He  's  a  queer  man  —  is 
Captain  Jim." 

I  replied  somewhat  sharply  that  I  consid 
ered  him  a  very  honest  man,  a  very  simple 
man,  and  a  very  loyal  man. 

"  That 's  all  very  well,"  said  Bassett,  twirl 
ing  his  cane  with  a  patronizing  smile,  "  but, 
as  his  friend,  don't  you  find  him  consid 
erable  of  a  darned  fool  ?  " 

I  could  not  help  retorting  that  I  thought 
he  had  found  that  hardly  an  objection. 

"You  think  so,"  he  said  querulously,  appar 
ently  ignoring  everything  but  the  practical 
fact,  —  "  and  maybe  others  do  ;  but  that 's 
where  you  're  mistaken.  It  don't  pay.  It 
may  pay  Mm  to  be  runnin'  me  as  his  partic 
ular  friend,  to  be  quotin'  me  here  and  there, 
to  be  gettin'  credit  of  kuowin'  me  and  my 
friends  and  ownin'  me  —  by  Gosh  !  but  I 
don't  see  where  the  benefit  to  me  comes  in. 
Eh?  Take  your  own  case  down  there  at 
Eureka  Gulch ;  did  n't  he  send  for  me  just  to 


236  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

show  me  up  to  you  fellers  ?  Did  I  want  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  the  Eureka  Com 
pany  ?  Did  n't  he  set  me  up  to  give  my  opin 
ion  about  that  shaft  just  to  show  off  what 
I  knew  about  science  and  all  that?  And 
what  did  he  get  me  to  join  the  company  for? 
Was  it  for  you?  No!  Was  it  for  .me? 
No !  It  was  just  to  keep  me  there  for  him 
self,  and  kinder  pit  me  agin  you  fellers  and 
crow  over  you  !  Now  that  ain't  my  style  ! 
It  may  be  Ms  —  it  may  be  honest  and  sim 
ple  and  loyal,  as  you  say,  and  it  may  be  all 
right  for  him  to  get  me  to  run  up  accounts 
at  the  settlement  and  then  throw  off  on  me 
—  but  it  ain't  my  style.  I  suppose  he  let 
on  that  I  did  that.  No?  He  didn't? 
Well  then,  why  did  he  want  to  run  me  off 
with  him,  and  cut  the  whole  concern  in  an 
underhand  way  and  make  me  leave  with 
nary  a  character  behind  me,  eh  ?  Now,  I 
never  said  anything  about  this  before  —  did 
I  ?  It  ain't  like  me.  I  would  n't  have 
said  anything  about  it  now,  only  you  talked 
about  my  being  benefited  by  his  darned 
foolishness.  Much  I 've  made  outer  him" 

Despicable,  false,  and  disloyal  as  this 
was,  perhaps  it  was  the  crowning  meanness 
of  such  confidences  that  his  very  weakness 


CAPTAIN  J/3/'S  FRIEND.  237 

seemed  only  a  reflection  of  Captain  Jim's 
own,  and  appeared  in  some  strange  way  to 
degrade  his  friend  as  much  as  himself.  The 
simplicity  of  his  vanity  and  selfishness  was 
only  equalled  by  the  simplicity  of  Captain 
Jim's  admiration  of  it.  It  was  a  part  of  my 
youthful  inexperience  of  humanity  that  I 
was  not  above  the  common  fallacy  of  believ 
ing  that  a  man  is  "  known  by  the  company 
he  keeps,"  and  that  he  is  in  a  manner  re 
sponsible  for  its  weakness ;  it  was  a  part  of 
that  humanity  that  I  felt  no  surprise  in 
being  more  amused  than  shocked  by  this  rev 
elation.  It  seemed  a  good  joke  on  Captain 
Jim  ! 

"  Of  course  you  kin  laugh  at  his  darned 
foolishness ;  but,  by  Gosh,  it  ain't  a  laugh 
ing  matter  to  me !  " 

"  But  surely  he 's  given  you  a  good  posi 
tion  on  the  '  Guardian,'  "  I  urged.  "  That 
was  disinterested,  certainly." 

"  Was  it  ?  I  call  that  the  cheekiest  thing 
yet.  When  he  found  he  couldn't  make 
enough  of  me  in  private  life,  he  totes  me  out 
in  public  as  his  editor  —  the  man  who  runs 
his  paper !  And  has  his  name  in  print  as 
the  proprietor,  the  only  chance  he  'd  ever  get 
of  being  before  the  public.  And  don't  know 
the  whole  town  is  laughing  at  him !  " 


238  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

"  That  may  be  because  they  think  he 
writes  some  of  the  articles,"  I  suggested. 

Again  the  insinuation  glanced  harmlessly 
from  his  vanity.  "  That  could  n't  be,  be 
cause  /  do  all  the  work,  and  it  ain't  his 
style,"  he  said  with  naive  discontent.  "  And 
it 's  always  the  highest  style,  done  to  please 
him,  though  between  you  and  me  it 's  sorter 
castin'  pearls  before  swine  —  this  'Frisco 
editing  —  and  the  public  would  be  just  as 
satisfied  with  anything  I  could  rattle  off  that 
was  peart  and  sassy,  —  something  spicy  or 
personal.  I  'm  willing  to  climb  down  and 
do  it,  for  there  's  nothin'  stuck-up  about  me, 
you  know ;  but  that  darned  fool  Captain 
Jim  has  got  the  big  head  about  the  style  of 
the  paper,  and  darned  if  I  don't  think  he  's 
afraid  if  there  's  a  lettin'  down,  people  may 
think  it 's  him  !  Ez  if  !  Why,  you  know 
as  well  as  me  that  there  's  a  sort  of  snap  1 
could  give  these  things  that  would  show  it 
was  me  and  no  slouch  did  them,  in  a  minute." 

I  had  my  doubts  about  the  elegance  or 
playfulness  of  Mr.  Bassett's  trifling,  but 
from  some  paragraphs  that  appeared  in  the 
next  issue  of  the  "  Guardian  "  I  judged  that 
he  had  won  over  Captain  Jim  —  if  indeed 
that  gentleman's  alleged  objections  were  not 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  239 

entirely  the  outcome  of  Bassett's  fancy.  The 
social  paragraphs  themselves  were  clumsy 
and  vulgar.  A  dull-witted  account  of  a 
select  party  at  Parson  Baxter's,  with  a  point- 
blank  compliment  to  Polly  Baxter  his  daugh 
ter,  might  have  made  her  pretty  cheek  burn 
but  for  her  evident  prepossession  for  the 
meretricious  scamp,  its  writer.  But  even 
this  horse-play  seemed  more  natural  than 
the  utterly  artificial  editorials  with  their 
pinchbeck  glitter  and  cheap  erudition ;  and 
thus  far  it  appeared  harmless. 

I  grieve  to  say  that  these  appearances 
were  deceptive.  One  afternoon,  as  I  was  re 
turning  from  a  business  visit  to  the  outskirts 
of  the  village,  I  was  amazed  on  reentering 
the  main  street  to  find  a  crowd  collected 
around  the  "  Guardian  "  office,  gazing  at  the 
broken  glass  of  its  windows  and  a  quantity 
of  type  scattered  on  the  ground.  But  my 
attention  was  at  that  moment  more  urgently 
attracted  by  a  similar  group  around  my  own 
office,  who,  however,  seemed  more  cautious, 
and  were  holding  timorously  aloof  from  the 
entrance.  As  I  ran  rapidly  towards  them,  a 
few  called  out,  "  Look  out  —  he  rs  in  there  I  " 
while  others  made  way  to  let  me  pass.  With 
the  impression  of  fire  or  robbery  in  my  mind, 


240  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

I  entered  precipitately,  only  to  find  Yuba 
Bill  calmly  leaning  back  in  an  arm-chair 
with  his  feet  on  the  back  of  another,  a  glass 
of  whiskey  from  my  demijohn  in  one  hand 
and  a  huge  cigar  in  his  mouth.  Across  his 
lap  lay  a  stumpy  shotgun  which  I  at  once 
recognized  as  "  the  Left  Bower,"  whose 
usual  place  was  at  his  feet  on  the  box  dur 
ing  his  journeys.  He  looked  cool  and  col 
lected,  although  there  were  one  or  two 
splashes  of  printer's  ink  on  his  shirt  and 
trousers,  and  from  the  appearance  of  my 
lavatory  and  towel  he  had  evidently  been  re 
moving  similar  stains  from  his  hands.  Put 
ting  his  gun  aside  and  grasping  my  hand 
warmly  without  rising,  he  began  with  even 
more  than  his  usual  lazy  imperturbability  : 
"  Well,  how 's  Gilead  lookin'  to-day  ?  " 
It  struck  me  as  looking  rather  disturbed, 
but,  as  I  was  still  too  bewildered  to  reply, 
he  continued  lazily : 

"Ez  you  didn't  hunt  me  up,  I  allowed 
you  might  hev  got  kinder  petrified  and  dried 
up  down  yer,  and  I  reckoned  to  run  down 
and  rattle  round  a  bit  and  make  things  lively 
for  ye.  I've  jist  cleared  out  a  newspaper 
office  over  thar.  They  call  it  the  'Guar- 
di-an,'  though  it  did  n't  seem  to  offer  much 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND,  241 

pertection  to  them  fellers  ez  was  in  it.  In 
fact,  it  was  n't  ez  much  a  fight  ez  it  orter  hev 
been.  It  was  rather  monotonous  for  me." 

"  But  what 's  the  row,  Bill  ?  What  has 
happened  ?  "  I  asked  excitedly. 

"  Nothin'  to  speak  of,  I  tell  ye,"  replied 
Yuba  Bill  reflectively.  "  I  jest  meandered 
into  that  shop  over  there,  and  I  sez,  4I 
want  ter  see  the  man  ez  runs  this  yer  mill 
o'  literatoor  an'  progress.'  Thar  waz  two 
infants  sittin'  on  high  chairs  havin'  some 
innocent  little  game  o'  pickin'  pieces  o'  lead 
outer  pill  -  boxes  like,  and  as  soon  ez  they 
seed  me  one  of  'em  crawled  under  his 
desk  and  the  other  scooted  outer  the  back 
door.  Bimeby  the  door  opens  again,  and  a 
fluffy  coyote-lookin'  feller  comes  in  and  al 
lows  that  he  is  responsible  for  that  yer 
paper.  When  I  saw  the  kind  of  animal  he 
was,  and  that  he  had  n't  any  weppings,  I 
jist  laid  the  Left  Bower  down  on  the  floor. 
Then  I  sez,  *  You  allowed  in  your  paper 
that  I  oughter  hev  a  little  sevility  knocked 
inter  me,  and  I  'm  here  to  hev  it  done.  You 
ken  begin  it  now.'  With  that  I  reached 
for  him,  and  we  waltzed  oncet  or  twicet 
around  the  room,  and  then  I  put  him  up 
on  the  mantelpiece  and  on  them  desks  and 


242  CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEND. 

little  boxes,  and  took  him  down  again,  and 
kinder  wiped  the  floor  with  him  gin'rally, 
until  the  first  thing  I  knowed  he  was  outside 
the  winder  on  the  sidewalk.  On'y  blamed 
if  I  did  n't  forget  to  open  the  winder.  Ef 
it  had  n't  been  for  that,  it  would  hev  been 
all  quiet  and  peaceful-like,  and  nobody  hev 
knowed  it.  But  the  sash  being  in  the  way, 
it  sorter  created  a  disturbance  and  unpleas 
antness  outside." 

"  But  what  was  it  all  about?  "  I  repeated. 
"  What  had  he  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  Ye  '11  find  it  in  that  paper,"  he  said,  in 
dicating  a  copy  of  the  "  Guardian  "  that  lay 
on  my  table  with  a  lazy  nod  of  his  head. 
"  P'r'aps  you  don't  read  it  ?  No  more  do  I. 
But  Joe  Bilson  sez  to  me  yesterday :  '  Bill,' 
sez  he,  '  they  're  goin'  for  ye  in  the  "  Guar 
dian.'"  'Wot's  that?'  sez  I.  'Hark  to 
this,'  sez  he,  and  reads  out  that  bit  that 
you  '11  find  there." 

I  had  opened  the  paper,  and  he  pointed 
to  a  paragraph.  "  There  it  is.  Pooty,  ain't 
it  ?  "  I  read  with  amazement  as  follows  :  — 

"  If  the  Pioneer  Stage  Company  want  to 
keep  up  with  the  times,  and  not  degenerate  into 
the  old  style  *  one  hoss '  road-wagon  business, 
they  'd  better  make  some  reform  on  the  line. 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  243 

They  might  begin  by  shipping  off  some  of  the 
old-time  whiskey-guzzling  drivers  who  are  too 
high  and  mighty  to  do  anything  but  handle  the 
ribbons,  and  are  above  speaking  to  a  passenger 
unless  he 's  a  favorite  or  one  of  their  set.  Over 
praise  for  an  occasional  scrimmage  with  road 
agents,  and  flattery  from  Eastern  greenhorns, 
have  given  them  the  big  head.  If  the  fool- 
killer  were  let  loose  on  the  line  with  a  big  club, 
and  knocked  a  little  civility  into  their  heads,  it 
would  n't  be  a  bad  thing,  and  would  be  a  parti 
cular  relief  to  the  passengers  for  Gilead  who  have 
to  take  the  stage  from  Simpson's  Bar." 

"  That 's  my  stage,"  said  Yuba  Bill  quietly, 
when  I  had  ended  ;  "  and  that 's  me." 

"  But  it 's  impossible,"  I  said  eagerly. 
"  That  insult  was  never  written  by  Captain 
Jim." 

"Captain  Jim,"  repeated  Yuba  Bill  re 
flectively.  "  Captain  Jim,  —  yes,  that  was 
the  name  o'  the  man  T  was  playin'  with. 
Shortish  hairy  feller,  suthin'  between  a  big 
coyote  and  the  old-style  hair-trunk.  Fought 
pretty  well  for  a  hay  -  footed  man  from 
Gil-e-ad." 

"  But  you  've  whipped  the  wrong  man, 
Bill,"  I  said.  "  Think  again  !  Have  you 
had  any  quarrel  lately? — run  against  any 


244  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

newspaper  man  ?  "  The  recollection  had 
flashed  upon  me  that  Lacy  Bassett  had 
lately  returned  from  a  visit  to  Stockton. 

Yuba  Bill  regarded  his  boots  on  the  other 
arm-chair  for  a  few  moments  in  profound 
meditation.  "  There  was  a  sort  o'  gaudy 
insect,"  he  began  presently,  "  suthin'  half 
way  betwixt  a  hoss-fly  and  a  devil's  darnin'- 
needle,  ez  crawled  up  outer  the  box  seat  with 
me  last  week,  and  buzzed  !  Now  I  think  on 
it,  he  talked  high  -  f  aluten'  o'  the  inflooence 
of  the  press  and  sech.  I  may  hev  said 
'shoo'  to  him  when  he  was  hummin'  the 
loudest.  I  mout  hev  flicked  him  off  oncet 
or  twicet  with  my  whip.  It  must  be  him. 
Gosh  !  "  he  said  suddenly,  rising  and  lifting 
his  heavy  hand  to  his  forehead,  "  now  I 
think  agin  he  was  the  feller  ez  crawled 
under  the  desk  when  the  fight  was  goin1  on, 
and  stayed  there.  Yes,  sir,  that  was  him. 
His  face  looked  sorter  familiar,  but  I  did  n't 
know  him  moultin'  with  his  feathers  off." 
He  turned  upon  me  with  the  first  expression 
of  trouble  and  anxiety  I  had  ever  seen  him 
wear.  "Yes,  sir,  that's  him.  And  I've 
kem  —  rne,  Yuba  Bill!  —  kem  myself,  a 
matter  of  twenty  miles,  totin'  a  gun  —  a 
gun,  by  Gosh  !  —  to  fight  that  —  that  —  that 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRiEND.  245 

potatar-bug !  "  He  walked  to  the  window, 
turned,  walked  back  again,  finished  his 
whiskey  with  a  single  gulp,  and  laid  his  hand 
almost  despondingly  on  my  shoulder.  "  Look 
ye,  old  —  old  fell,  you  and  me  's  ole  friends. 
Don't  give  me  away.  Don't  let  on  a  word  o' 
this  to  any  one !  Say  I  kem  down  yer  howl- 
in'  drunk  on  a  gen'ral  tear  !  Say  I  mistook 
that  newspaper  office  for  a  cigar-shop,  and 

—  got  licked  by  the   boss !     Say   any  thin' 
you  like,  'cept  that  I  took  a  gun  down  yer 
to  chase   a  fly  that   had   settled  onter  me. 
Keep  the  Left  Bower  in  yer  back  office  till 
I  send  for  it.     Ef  you  've  got  a  back  door 
somewhere  handy  where  I  can  slip  outer  this 
without  bein'  seen  I  'd  be  thankful." 

As  this  desponding  suggestion  appeared 
to  me  as  the  wisest  thing  for  him  to  do  in 
the  then  threatening  state  of  affairs  outside, 

—  which,   had   he   suspected   it,    he  would 
have  stayed  to  face,  —  I  quickly  opened  a 
door  into  a  courtyard    that   communicated 
through  an  alley  with  a  side  street.     Here 
we  shook  hands  and   parted  ;  his   last   de 
jected    ejaculation    being,    "  That    potato- 
bug!"    Later   I    ascertained   that   Captain 
Jim   had   retired   to  his    ranch   some   four 
miles  distant.     He  was  not  seriously  hurt, 


246  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

but  looked,  to  use  the  words  of  my  in 
formant,  "  ez  ef  he  'd  been  hugged  by  a 
playful  b'ar."  As  the  "  Guardian  "  made 
its  appearance  the  next  week  without  the 
slightest  allusion  to  the  fracas,  I  did  not 
deem  it  necessary  to  divulge  the  real  facts. 
When  I  called  to  inquire  about  Captain 
Jim's  condition,  he  himself,  however,  volun 
teered  an  explanation. 

"  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you,  ez  an  old 
friend  o'  mine  and  Lacy's,  that  the  secret 
of  that  there  attack  on  me  and  the  '  Guar 
dian  '  was  perlitikal.  Yes,  sir  !  There  was 
a  powerful  orginization  in  the  interest  o' 
Halkins  for  assemblyman  ez  did  n't  like 
our  high-toned  editorials  on  caucus  corrup 
tion,  and  hired  a  bully  to  kem  down  here 
and  suppress  us.  Why,  this  yer  Lacy 
spotted  the  idea  to  oncet ;  yer  know  how 
keen  he  is." 

"  Was  Lacy  present  ?  "  I  asked  as  care 
lessly  as  I  could. 

Captain  Jim  glanced  his  eyes  over  his 
shoulder  quite  in  his  old  furtive  canine  fash 
ion,  and  then  blinked  them  at  me  rapidly. 
"  He  war !  And  if  it  warn't  for  his  pluck 
and  Ms  science  and  Ms  strength,  I  don't 
know  whar  I'd  hev  been  now!  Howsom- 


CAPTAIN  JIM  S  FRIEND.  247 

ever,  it's  all  right.  I  've  had  a  fair  offer  to 
sell  the  '  Guardian '  over  at  Simpson's  Bar, 
and  it 's  time  I  quit  throwin'  away  the  work 
of  a  man  like  Lacy  Bassett  upon  it.  And 
between  you  and  me,  I  've  got  an  idea  and 
suthin'  better  to  put  his  talens  into." 

III. 

IT  was  not  long  before  it  became  evident 
that  the  "  talens  "  of  Mr.  Lacy  Bassett,  as 
indicated  by  Captain  Jim,  were  to  grasp  at 
a  seat  in  the  state  legislature.  An  edito 
rial  in  the  "  Simpson's  Bar  Clarion  "  boldly 
advocated  his  pretensions.  At  first  it  was 
believed  that  the  article  emanated  from  the 
gifted  pen  of  Lacy  himself,  but  the  style 
was  so  unmistakably  that  of  Colonel  Star- 
bottle,  an  eminent  political  "  war-horse  "  of 
the  district,  that  a  graver  truth  was  at  once 
suggested,  namely,  that  the  "  Guardian " 
had  simply  been  transferred  to  Simpson's 
Bar,  and  merged  into  the  "  Clarion  "  solely 
on  this  condition.  At  least  it  was  recog 
nized  that  it  was  the  hand  of  Captain  Jim 
which  guided  the  editorial  fingers  of  the 
colonel,  and  Captain  Jim's  money  that  dis 
tended  the  pockets  of  that  gallant  political 
leader. 


248  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

Howbeit  Lacy  Bassett  was  never  elected ; 
in  fact  he  was  only  for  one  brief  moment  a 
candidate.  It  was  related  that  upon  his  first 
ascending  the  platform  at  Simpson's  Bar  a 
voice  in  the  audience  said  lazily,  "  Come 
down  !  "  That  voice  was  Yuba  Bill's.  A 
slight  confusion  ensued,  in  which  Yuba  Bill 
whispered  a  few  words  in  the  colonel's  ear. 
After  a  moment's  hesitation  the  "  war-horse  " 
came  forward,  and  in  his  loftiest  manner  re 
gretted  that  the  candidate  had  withdrawn. 
The  next  issue  of  the  "  Clarion  "  proclaimed 
with  no  uncertain  sound  that  a  base  conspir 
acy  gotten  up  by  the  former  proprietor  of 
the  "  Guardian  "  to  undermine  the  prestige 
of  the  Great  Express  Company  had  been 
ruthlessly  exposed,  and  the  candidate  on 
learning  it  himself  for  the  first  time,  with 
drew  his  name  from  the  canvass,  as  became 
a  high  -  toned  gentleman.  Public  opinion, 
ignoring  Lacy  Bassett  completely,  unhesitat 
ingly  denounced  Captain  Jim. 

During  this  period  I  had  paid  but  little 
heed  to  Lacy  Bassett's  social  movements,  or 
the  successes  which  would  naturally  attend 
such  a  character  with  the  susceptible  sex.  I 
had  heard  that  he  was  engaged  to  Polly  Bax 
ter,  but  that  they  had  quarrelled  in  conse- 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  249 

quence  of  his  flirtations  with  others,  espe 
cially  a  Mrs.  Sweeny,  a  profusely  ornamented 
but  reputationless  widow.  Captain  Jim  had 
often  alluded  with  a  certain  respectful  pride 
and  delicacy  to  Polly's  ardent  appreciation 
of  his  friend,  and  had  more  than  half  hinted 
with  the  same  reverential  mystery  to  their 
matrimonial  union  later,  and  his  intention 
of  "  doing  the  square  thing  "  for  the  young 
couple.  But  it  was  presently  noticed  that 
these  allusions  became  less  frequent  during 
Lacy's  amorous  aberrations,  and  an  occa 
sional  depression  and  unusual  reticence 
marked  Captain  Jim's  manner  when  the 
subject  was  discussed  in  his  presence.  He 
seemed  to  endeavor  to  make  up  for  his 
friend's  defection  by  a  kind  of  personal  hom 
age  to  Polly,  and  not  unfrequently  accom 
panied  her  to  church  or  to  singing-class.  I 
have  a  vivid  recollection  of  meeting  him  one 
afternoon  crossing  the  fields  with  her,  and 
looking  into  her  face  with  that  same  wistful, 
absorbed,  and  uneasy  canine  expression  that 
I  had  hitherto  supposed  he  had  reserved  for 
Lacy  alone.  I  do  not  know  whether  Polly 
was  averse  to  the  speechless  devotion  of  these 
yearning  brown  eyes ;  her  manner  was  ani 
mated  and  the  pretty  cheek  that  waks  nearest 


250  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

me  mantled  as  I  passed  ;  but  I  was  struck 
for  the  first  time  with  the  idea  that  Captain 
Jim  loved  her !  I  was  surprised  to  have  that 
fancy  corroborated  in  the  remark  of  another 
wayfarer  whom  I  met,  to  the  effect,  "  That 
now  that  Bassett  was  out  o'  the  running  it 
looked  ez  if  Captain  Jim  was  makin'  up  for 
time  !  "  Was  it  possible  that  Captain  Jim 
had  always  loved  her?  I  did  not  at  first 
know  whether  to  be  pained  or  pleased  for 
his  sake.  But  I  concluded  that  whether  the 
unworthy  Bassett  had  at  last  found  a  rival 
in  Captain  Jim  or  in  the  girl  herself,  it  was 
a  displacement  that  was  for  Captain  Jim's 
welfare.  But  as  I  was  about  leaving  Gilead 
for  a  month's  transfer  to  the  San  Francisco 
office,  I  had  no  opportunity  to  learn  more 
from  the  confidences  of  Captain  Jim. 

I  was  ascending  the  principal  staircase  of 
my  San  Francisco  hotel  one  rainy  afternoon, 
when  I  was  pointedly  recalled  to  Gilead  by 
the  passing  glitter  of  Mrs.  Sweeny's  jewelry 
and  the  sudden  vanishing  behind  her  of  a 
gentleman  who  seemed  to  be  accompanying 
her.  A  few  moments  after  I  had  entered 
my  room  I  heard  a  tap  at  my  door,  and 
opened  it  upon  Lacy  Bassett.  I  thought 
he  looked  a  little  confused  and  agitated. 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  251 

Nevertheless,  with  an  assumption  of  cordial 
ity  and  ease  he  said,  "  It  appears  we  're 
neighbors.  That 's  my  room  next  to  yours." 
He  pointed  to  the  next  room,  which  I  then 
remembered  was  a  sitting-room  en  suite  with 
my  own,  and  communicating  with  it  by  a 
second  door,  which  was  always  locked.  It 
had  not  been  occupied  since  my  tenancy.  As 
I  suppose  my  face  did  not  show  any  extrava 
gant  delight  at  the  news  of  his  contiguity, 
he  added,  hastily,  "  There 's  a  transom  over 
the  door,  and  I  thought  I  'd  tell  you  you  kin 
hear  everything  from  the  one  room  to  the 
other." 

I  thanked  him,  and  told  him  dryly  that,  as 
I  had  no  secrets  to  divulge  and  none  that  I 
cared  to  hear,  it  made  no  difference  to  me. 
As  this  seemed  to  increase  his  confusion  and 
he  still  hesitated  before  the  door,  I  asked 
him  if  Captain  Jim  was  with  him. 

"  No,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I  have  n't  seen 
him  for  a  month,  and  don't  want  to.  Look 
here,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  bit  about  him." 
He  walked  into  the  room,  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
me  and  Captain  Jim  is  played  !  All  this 
runnin'  o'  me  and  interferin'  with  me  is 
played  I  I  'm  tired  of  it.  You  kin  tell  him 
so  from  me." 


252  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

"  Then  you  have  quarrelled  ?  " 

"  Yes.  As  much  as  any  man  can  quarrel 
with  a  darned  fool  who  can't  take  a  hint." 

"One  moment.  Have  you  quarrelled 
about  Polly  Baxter  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered  querulously.  "Of 
course  I  have.  What  does  he  mean  by  in 
terfering  ?  " 

"  Now  listen  to  me,  Mr.  Bassett,"  I  inter 
rupted.  "  I  have  no  desire  to  concern  my 
self  in  your  association  with  Captain  Jim, 
but  since  you  persist  in  dragging  me  into  it, 
you  must  allow  me  to  speak  plainly.  From 
all  that  I  can  ascertain  you  have  no  serious 
intentions  of  marrying  Polly  Baxter,  You 
have  come  here  from  Gilead  to  follow  Mrs. 
Sweeny,  whom  I  saw  you  with  a  moment 
ago.  Now,  why  do  you  not  frankly  give  up 
Miss  Baxter  to  Captain  Jim,  who  will  make 
her  a  good  husband,  and  go  your  own  way 
with  Mrs.  Sweeny?  If  you  really  wish  to 
break  off  your  connection  with  Captain  Jim, 
that 's  the  only  way  to  do  it." 

His  face,  which  had  exhibited  the  weakest 
and  most  pitiable  consciousness  at  the  men 
tion  of  Mrs.  Sweeny,  changed  to  an  expres 
sion  of  absolute  stupefaction  as  I  concluded, 

"  Wot  stuff  are  you  tryin'  to  fool  me 
with  ?  "  he  said  at  last  roughly. 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  253 

"  I  mean,"  I  replied  sharply,  "  that  this 
double  game  of  yours  is  disgraceful.  Your 
association  with  Mrs.  Sweeny  demands  the 
withdrawal  of  any  claim  you  have  upon  Miss 
Baxter  at  once.  If  you  have  no  respect  for 
Captain  Jim's  friendship,  you  must  at  least 
show  common  decency  to  her." 

He  burst  into  a  half-relieved,  half-hysteric 
laugh.  "Are  you  crazy?"  gasped  he.  "Why, 
Captain  Jim 's  just  huntin'  me  down  to  make 
me  marry  Polly.  That 's  just  what  the 
row 's  about.  That 's  just  what  he  's  inter- 
f erin'  for  —  just  to  carry  out  his  darned  fool 
ideas  o'  gettin'  a  wife  for  me  ;  just  his  vanity 
to  say  he  '«  made  the  match.  It 's  me  that 
he  wants  to  marry  to  that  Baxter  girl  —  not 
himself.  He  's  too  cursed  selfish  for  that." 

I  suppose  I  was  not  different  from  ordi 
nary  humanity,  for  in  my  unexpected  dis 
comfiture  I  despised  Captain  Jim  quite  as 
much  as  I  did  the  man  before  me.  Reiterat 
ing  my  remark  that  I  had  no  desire  to  mix 
myself  further  in  their  quarrels,  I  got  rid  of 
him  with  as  little  ceremony  as  possible.  But 
a  few  minutes  later,  when  the  farcical  side 
of  the  situation  struck  me,  my  irritation  was 
somewhat  mollified,  without  however  in 
creasing  my  respect  for  either  of  the  actors. 
^jS* 


254  CAPTAIN  JIM' 8  FRIEND. 

The  whole  affair  had  assumed  a  triviality 
that  was  simply  amusing,  nothing  more,  and 
I  even  looked  forward  to  a  meeting  with 
Captain  Jim  and  his  exposition  of  the  mat 
ter —  which  I  knew  would  follow — with 
pleasurable  anticipation.  But  I  was  mis 
taken. 

One  afternoon,  when  I  was  watching  the 
slanting  volleys  of  rain  driven  by  a  strong 
southwester  against  the  windows  of  the 
hotel  reading-room,  I  was  struck  by  the 
erratic  movements  of  a  dripping  figure  out 
side  that  seemed  to  be  hesitating  over  the 
entrance  to  the  hotel.  At  times  furtively 
penetrating  the  porch  as  far  as  the  vestibule, 
and  again  shyly  recoiling  from  it,  its  manner 
was  so  strongly  suggestive  of  some  timid  ani 
mal  that  I  found  myself  suddenly  reminded 
of  Captain  Jim  and  the  memorable  evening 
of  his  exodus  from  Eureka  Gulch.  As  the 
figure  chanced  to  glance  up  to  the  window 
where  I  stood  I  saw  to  my  astonishment  that 
it  was  Captain  Jim  himself,  but  so  changed 
and  haggard  that  I  scarcely  knew  him.  I 
instantly  ran  out  into  the  hall  and  vestibule, 
but  when  I  reached  the  porch  he  had  disap 
peared.  Either  he  had  seen  me  and  wished 
to  avoid  me,  or  he  had  encountered  the  ob- 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  255 

ject  of  his  quest,  which  I  at  once  concluded 
must  be  Lacy  Bassett.  I  was  so  much  im 
pressed  and  worried  by  his  appearance  and 
manner,  that,  in  this  belief,  I  overcame  my 
aversion  to  meeting  Bassett,  and  even  sought 
him  through  the  public  rooms  and  lobbies  in 
the  hope  of  finding  Captain  Jim  with  him. 
But  in  vain  ;  possibly  he  had  succeeded  in 
escaping  his  relentless  friend. 

As  the  wind  and  rain  increased  at  night 
fall  and  grew  into  a  tempestuous  night,  with 
deserted  streets  and  swollen  waterways,  I 
did  not  go  out  again,  but  retired  early,  inex 
plicably  haunted  by  the  changed  and  brood 
ing  face  of  Captain  Jim.  Even  in  my 
dreams  he  pursued  me  in  his  favorite  like 
ness  of  a  wistful,  anxious,  and  uneasy  hound, 
who,  on  my  turning  to  caress  him  familiarly, 
snapped  at  me  viciously,  and  appeared  to 
have  suddenly  developed  a  snarling  rabid 
fury.  I  seemed  to  be  awakened  at  last  by 
the  sound  of  his  voice.  For  an  instant  I 
believed  the  delusion  a  part  of  my  dream. 
But  I  was  mistaken ;  I  was  lying  broad 
awake,  and  the  voice  clearly  had  come  from 
the  next  room,  and  was  distinctly  audible 
over  the  transom. 

"  I  Ve  had  enough  of  it,"  he  said,  "  and 


256  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

I  'm  givin'  ye  now  —  this  night  —  yer  last 
chance.  Quit  this  hotel  and  that  woman,  and 
go  back  to  Gilead  and  marry  Polly.  Don't  do 
it  and  I  '11  kill  ye,  ez  sure  ez  you  sit  there 
gapin'  in  that  chair.  If  I  can't  get  ye  to 
fight  me  like  a  man,  —  and  I  '11  spit  in  yer 
face  or  put  some  insult  onto  you  afore  that 
woman,  afore  everybody,  ez  would  make  a 
bigger  skunk  nor  you  turn,  —  I  '11  hunt  ye 
down  and  kill  ye  in  your  tracks." 

There  was  a  querulous  murmur  of  inter 
ruption  in  Lacy's  voice,  but  whether  of  de 
fiance  or  appeal  I  could  not  distinguish. 
Captain  Jim's  voice  again  rose,  dogged  and 
distinct. 

"  Ef  you  kill  me  it 's  all  the  same,  and  I 
don't  say  that  I  won't  thank  ye.  This  yer 
world  is  too  crowded  for  yer  and  me,  Lacy 
Bassett.  I  've  believed  in  ye,  trusted  in  ye, 
lied  for  ye,  and  fought  for  ye.  From  the 
time  I  took  ye  up  —  a  feller-passenger  to 
'Fresco  —  believin'  there  wor  the  makin's 
of  a  man  in  ye,  to  now,  you  fooled  me,  — 
fooled  me  afore  the  Eureka  boys ;  fooled  me 
afore  Gilead ;  fooled  me  afore  her ;  fooled 
me  afore  God  !  It 's  got  to  end  here.  Ye  've 
got  to  take  the  curse  of  that  foolishness  off 
o'  me  !  You  've  got  to  do  one  single  thing 


CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND.  257 

that 's  like  the  man  I  took  ye  for,  or  you  've 
got  to  die.  Times  waz  when  I  'd  have  wished 
it  for  your  account  —  that 's  gone,  Lacy  Bas- 
sett !  You  've  got  to  do  it  for  me.  You  've 
got  to  do  it  so  I  don't  see  '  d — d  fool '  writ 
in  the  eyes  of  every  man  ez  looks  at  me." 

He  had  apparently  risen  and  walked  to 
wards  the  door.  His  voice  sounded  from 
another  part  of  the  room. 

"  I  '11  give  ye  till  to-morrow  mornin'  to  do 
suthin'  to  lift  this  curse  off  o'  me.  Ef  you 
refoose,  then,  by  the  living  God,  I  '11  slap 
yer  face  in  the  dinin'-room,  or  in  the  office 
afore  them  all !  You  hear  me  !  " 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  a  quick  sharp 
explosion  that  seemed  to  fill  and  expand 
both  rooms  until  the  windows  were  almost 
lifted  from  their  casements,  a  hysterical  in 
articulate  cry  from  Lacy,  the  violent  open 
ing  of  a  door,  hurried  voices,  and  the  tramp 
ing  of  many  feet  in  the  passage.  I  sprang 
out  of  bed,  partly  dressed  myself,  and  ran 
into  the  hall.  But  by  that  time  I  found  a 
crowd  of  guests  and  servants  around  the 
next  door,  some  grasping  Bassett,  who  was 
white  and  trembling,  and  others  kneeling  by 
Captain  Jim,  who  was  half  lying  in  the  door 
way  against  the  wall. 


258  CAPTAIN  JIM'S  FRIEND. 

"  He  heard  it  all,"  Bassett  gasped  hyster 
ically,  pointing  to  me.  "  He  knows  that  this 
man  wanted  to  kill  me." 

Before  I  could  reply,  Captain  Jim  partly 
raised  himself  with  a  convulsive  effort. 
Wiping  away  the  blood  that,  oozing  from 
his  lips,  already  showed  the  desperate  char 
acter  of  his  internal  wound,  he  said  in  a 
husky  and  hurried  voice  :  "  It 's  all  right, 
boys !  It 's  my  fault.  It  was  me  who  done 
it.  I  went  for  him  in  a  mean  underhanded 
way  jest  now,  when  he  had  n't  a  weppin 
nor  any  show  to  defend  himself.  We 
gripped.  He  got  a  holt  o'  my  derringer  — 
you  see  that 's  my  pistol  there,  I  swear  it 

—  and  turned  it  agin  me  in   self  -  defense, 
and  sarved  me  right.     I  swear  to  God,  gen 
tlemen,   it 's  so !  "     Catching   sight   of   my 
face,  he  looked  at  me,  I  fancied  half  implor 
ingly  and  half  triumphantly,  and  added,  "  I 
might  hev  knowed  it !    I  allers  allowed  Lacy 
Bassett   was   game  !  —  game,   gentlemen  — 
and  he  was.     If  it 's  my  last  word,  I  say  it 

—  he  was  game  !  " 

And  with  this  devoted  falsehood  upon  his 
lips  and  something  of  the  old  canine  instinct 
in  his  failing  heart,  as  his  head  sank  back  he 
seemed  to  turn  it  towards  Bassett,  as  if  to 


CAPTAIN  JIM1 8  FRIEND.  259 

stretch  himself  out  at  his  feet.  Then  the  light 
failed  from  his  yearning  upward  glance,  and 
the  curse  of  foolishness  was  lifted  from  him 
forever. 

So  conclusive  were  the  facts,  that  the  coro 
ner's  jury  did  not  deem  it  necessary  to  de 
tain  Mr.  Bassett  for  a  single  moment  after 
the  inquest.  But  he  returned  to  Gilead, 
married  Polly  Baxter,  and  probably  on  the 
strength  of  having  "  killed  his  man,"  was 
unopposed  on  the  platform  next  year,  and 
triumphantly  elected  to  the  legislature  ! 


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of  jFtction  1  1 


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OTorfes?  of  jfiction  15 

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of  jftetion  17 


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1 8  OTorte  of  jFietton 

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of  jfiction  19 


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OTorfes?  of  jfictwn  21 

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22  Works  of  jfictioh 

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of  jfiction  23 


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24  Morfes  of  Jftction 

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of  fiction  25 


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26  OTtorfes  of  jFittton 

Here  is  realism,  but  here  is  also  pathos  ;  here  is  human  nature, 
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stirs  the  pulses  and  moves  the  soul.  It  is  realism  at  its  best.  — 
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of  jftction  27 


tasteful  paper  covers.  The  numbers  of  the  Series 
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5.  The  Story  of  Avis.     By  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps 

6.  The  Feud  of  Oakfield  Creek.     By  Josiah  Royce. 

7.  Agatha  Page.     By  Isaac  Henderson. 

8.  The  Guardian  Angel.    By  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

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Homoselle.  Doctor  Ben. 

Damen's  Ghost.  Rachel's  Share  of  the  Road. 

Rosemary  and  Rue.  Fanchette. 

Madame  Lucas.  His  Second  Campaign. 
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Josiah  Royce. 

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California.     i6mo,  $1.25  ;  paper,  50  cents. 
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artistic.  —  Boston  Advertiser. 


28  Worfcs?  of  jftction 

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moor.  Woodstock. 

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themselves  geniuses.  —  Utica  Herald. 


Morfetf  of  jftctton  29 

Mark  Sibley  Severance. 

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"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin "...  must  always  remain  one  of  the 
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30  OTorte  of  jftctton 

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charm  of  the  Pacific-coast  literature  are  at  high  tide  in  Mr.  Thick- 
stun's  story.  —  Literary  Werld  (London). 


OTtorfctf  of  jfictton  3 1 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray. 

Complete  Works.  Illustrated  Library  Edi 
tion.  With  Biographical  and  Bibliographical  Intro 
ductions  to  the  volumes,  and  over  1600  Illustrations. 
Each  volume,  crown  8vo,  $1.50.  The  set,  $33.00  ;  half 
calf,  $60.50  ;  half  levant,  $77.00. 

1.  Vanity  Fair.   I.  12.  Irish      Sketch      Book,; 

2.  Vanity    Fair.  II.;  etc. 

Lovel  the  Widower.  13.  The     Four     Georges, 

3.  Pendennis.  I.  etc. 

4.  Pendennis.  II.  14.  Henry  Esmond. 

5.  Memoirs  of  Yellow-  15.  The  Virginians.  I. 

plush.  1 6.  The  Virginians.  II. 

6.  Burlesques,  etc.  17.  Philip.  I. 

7.  History    of     Samuel     18.  Philip.  II.;  Catherine. 

Titmarsh,  etc.  19.  Roundabout       Papers, 

8.  Barry    Lyndon    and  etc. 

Denis  Duval.  20.  Christmas  Stories,  etc. 

9.  The  Newcomes.  I.        21.  Contributions  to  Punch, 

10.  The  Newcomes.  II.  etc. 

11.  Paris    Sketch   Book,     22.  Miscellaneous  Essays. 

etc. 

The  Introductory  Notes  are  a  new  feature  of  great  value  in  this 
library  edition.  .  .  .  These  aotes  are  meant  to  give  every  interest 
ing  detail  about  the  origin  and  fortunes  of  separate  works  that  can 
be  gathered  from  the  literature  about  Thackeray.  The  introduc 
tion  to  Vanity  Fair  is  thoroughly  done ;  it  brings  together  the 
needful  bibliographical  details,  and  adds  to  them  delightful  ana 
pertaining  to  the  novel  from  Thackeray  himself,  James  Payn,  Mr. 
Hannay,  Mr.  Rideing,  and  others.  .  .  .  Abraham  Hayward's  Ed 
inburgh  Review  article  and  Mrs.  Procter's  letter  to  him  supply  the 
more  solid  part  of  the  "  note "  in  their  just  estimate  of  Thack 
eray's  powers.  —  Literary  World  (Boston). 

Maurice  Thompson. 

A  Tallahassee    Girl.      i6mo,   $1.00;    paper, 
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Among  the  very  best  of  recent  American  stories,  and  very  far 
ahead  of  any  of  the  many  novels  of  Southern  life.  —  Philadelphia 
Times. 

His  Second  Campaign.     i6mo,  $1.00;  paper, 
50  cents. 


32  Works?  of  jfiction 

Ticknor's  Paper  Series 

of  Choice  Copyright  Reading.    Handsome  and 
attractive  books  for  leisure-hour  and  railroad  Reading. 

1.  The  Story  of  Margaret  Kent.      By  Ellen  Olney 

Kirke. 

2.  Guenn.     By  Blanche  Willis  Howard. 

3.  The  Cruise  of  a  Woman  Hater.    By  G.  De  Mont- 

auban. 

4.  A  Reverend  Idol.     A  Massachusetts  Coast  Ro 

mance. 

5.  A  Nameless  Nobleman.     By  Jane  G.  Austin. 

6.  The  Prelate.     A  Roman  Story.     By  Isaac  Hen 

derson. 

7.  Eleanor  Maitland.     By  Clara  Erskine  Clement. 

8.  The   House  of  the  Musician.      By  Virginia  W. 

Johnson. 

9.  Geraldine.     A  Metrical  Romance  of  the  St.  Law 

rence. 

10.  The  Duchess  Emilia.     By  Barrett  Wendell, 
n.  Dr.  Breen's  Practice.     By  W.  D.  Howells. 

12.  Tales  of  Three  Cities.     By  Henry  James. 

13.  The  House  at  High  Bridge.     By  Edgar  Fawcett. 

14.  The  Story  of  a  Country  Town.     By  E.  W.  Howe. 

15.  The  Confessions  of  a  Frivolous  Girl.     By  Robert 

Grant. 

16.  Culture's  Garland.     By  Eugene  Field. 

17.  Patty's  Perversities,     fey  Arlo  Bates. 

18.  A  Modern  Instance.     By  W.  D.  Howells. 

19.  Miss  Ludington's  Sister.     By  Edward  Bellamy. 

20.  Aunt  Serena.     By  Blanche  Willis  Howard. 

21.  Damen's  Ghost.     By  Edwin  Lassetter  Bynner. 

22.  A  Woman's  Reason.     By  W.  D.  Howells. 

23.  Nights  with    Uncle   Remus.      By  Joel  Chandler 

Harris. 

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28.  Homoselle.     By  Mary  S.  Tiernan. 

29.  A  Moonlight  Boy.     By  E.  W.  Howe. 


of  jFtctton  35 


30.  Adventures  of  a  Widow.     By  Edgar  Fawcett. 

31.  Indian  Summer.     By  W.  D.  Howells. 

32.  The  Led-Horse  Claim.     By  Mary  Hallock  Foote. 

33.  Len  Gansett.     By  Opie  P.  Read. 

34.  Next  Door.     By  Clara  Louise  Burnham. 

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36.  Sons  and  Daughters.     By  Ellen  Olney  Kirk. 

37.  Agnes  Surriage.     By  Edwin  Lassetter  Bynner. 

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55.  Fools  of  Nature.     By  Alice  Brown. 

56.  Dust.     By  Julian  Hawthorne. 

57.  The    Story   of  an   Enthusiast.      By  Mrs.   C.  V. 

Jamison. 

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34  OTorfctf  of  fiction 

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